


The Boring Life of Felix Hugo Fraldarius

by Anonymous



Category: Fire Emblem: Fuukasetsugetsu | Fire Emblem: Three Houses
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Angst, Apathetic Felix Hugo Fraldarius, Depressed Felix Hugo Fraldarius, Depression, Fire Emblem: Three Houses Blue Lions Route, Friendship, Implied/Referenced Self-Harm, Introspection, M/M, Male My Unit | Byleth, Male-Female Friendship, Oblivious Felix Hugo Fraldarius, One-Sided Attraction, Post-Timeskip | War Phase (Fire Emblem: Three Houses), Pre-Canon, Pre-Timeskip | Academy Phase (Fire Emblem: Three Houses), Sad Ending, Self-Esteem Issues, Slow Burn, Unreliable Narrator
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-06-13
Updated: 2020-07-21
Packaged: 2021-03-04 06:28:44
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 4
Words: 25,264
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24659134
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/
Summary: Instead of going through an angry rebellious phase, Felix just stops caring about everything and anything. Except for swordsmanship because that's the only interesting thing in his life.This is the story of Felix being depressed, but he's handling his depression the best way he knows how - by acting like everything is fine.
Relationships: Dimitri Alexandre Blaiddyd/Felix Hugo Fraldarius
Comments: 16
Kudos: 109
Collections: Anonymous





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> The irony of this fic being boring.

After the Western Rebellion, Felix had undergone a period of felt like self-detachment. His brother was dead, his father barely paid him any attention, he had been abruptly shoved into the role of the Fraldarius heir, and now Dimitri - his once cherished friend - had turned into a rampaging monster. Everything was becoming worse and worse by the minute. 

The prince's unrestrained laughter as he had crushed skulls and bathed himself in blood was deeply imprinted into Felix's mind. Felix could never forget that day when he had realized that Dimitri had actually perished in the flames of Duscur along with Glenn and King Lambert. Now, the prince had been replaced by this wild beast that wore his face and spoke his voice and emulated his mannerisms. What a fake; what a fraud. 

Yet Felix couldn't muster an iota of anger. Instead, it was as though there was a void that had been punched into him, swallowing whatever rage, frustration, sorrow, or any other residual emotion. That had been the self-detachment. 

But if Felix had to be honest, he would say that it was rather relieving. The upheaval of emotions was proving to be exhausting to maintain, and he would know this better than anyone else. After all, he had spent his childhood crying about everything that shined under the sun. He had cried for his family, for Dimitri, for himself, and he was becoming weary of crying any more. 

It was simply easier to just not care anymore. 

* * *

Felix wasn't one for long-term goals or lofty dreams, but he did often think about running away to become a mercenary. Not that being a mercenary was a goal that would take long to be or was anything grand in nature, but, for Felix, it might as well be. 

As a mercenary, he could go wherever he wanted, woke up whenever he wanted, ate whatever he wanted. He could do anything with no one to reprimand him or impose expectations on him. Most importantly, he could make a living purely off of fighting.

If there was one thing that Felix loved more than anything, it was fighting. 

But Felix didn't put any action into his thoughts. Distantly, he knew that life couldn't be any better than being the direct successor of House Fraldarius, that he would have to be an idiot to cast away a life full of wealth and prestige.

Years later, he would not only become Duke Fraldarius but also assume his father's role as the king's advisor, sword, and shield. He would become the second most powerful man in the Kingdom, and his name would be known and archived for years to come. Besides, he was just a sixteen-year-old; what did sixteen-year-olds know about being a mercenary?

Yet, simultaneously, he carried doubts regarding his prospective future. Felix knew that he wasn't particularly smart (if his tutor's constant sighs were of any indication), and the thought of managing a duchy was daunting. 

What did he know about handling paperwork? He didn't even know what the paperwork entailed. Managing...granaries? Taxes, reforms, and supplies? Supplies were kept in granaries, weren't they? The fact that Felix had no idea clearly demonstrated how unprepared he was to inherit the title as duke. And if he was going to end up being an incapable duke, then how could he possibly bear the responsibility of being the king's second-in-command?

In this case, Felix saw it as a blessing that Dedue was here act as Dimitri's retainer in his place. Now Felix could play catch up - or at least say that he would as he would procrastinate on his studies. Miraculously, his father had yet caught on to Felix's procrastinating, so he was safe until then. 

* * *

Comments like "Glenn was a hard worker; you should be more like him," "Glenn would be disappointed to see you now," and "Glenn is no longer here with us, so you have to honor his memory by fulfilling his position for him" were becoming more and more common. Courtesy of his father and Ingrid. 

Felix knew that these remarks were meant to push him to succeed, yet they only served to make him see what he could never achieve. He could never live up to Glenn, that much was obvious. Glenn was a protege, having become a knight at a tender age of fifteen. Glenn was a genius, being able to absorb his lessons with relative ease. Glenn was a hero, sacrificing his life so that Dimitri could live. 

All Felix had was his swordsmanship, which he was decent in, at least. 

He once considered yelling at everyone to shut up, but he figured that the repercussions that would follow would be too draining to endure. Instead, he just put up with the relentless comparisons; he was becoming rather good at ignoring them, anyway. 

There were days, however, when he would wake up and the words would mire him to the bed. Moving would feel like wading through molasses, and having to go through the same routine would be a test of sheer willpower. 

Sometimes, he would think, "Goddess, just strike me dead. I'm done." Other times, though, he would think, "Goddess, please let there be spiced sausages for breakfast. That's the only thing that I'm getting up for." When there wouldn't be spiced sausages for breakfast, he would think, "At least there's training to be done."

* * *

"Buddy!" Sylvain exclaimed as he looped an arm around his neck. "It's been a while!"

Felix grunted in assent as he attempted to drag his luggage up the stairs. It was difficult to do what with Sylvain hanging off of him.

"You know you have servants to do that for you."

He did, in fact, know that, but he had dismissed them for...whatever reason. He didn't remember. Didn't care to remember. He regretted it, though. Felix sighed, let go, and straightened up his back, wincing when he felt an ache shooting down his spine. He sighed again and implored to his friend, "Sylvain, help me."

"Sure thing, bud." Sylvain bent down to grab the handle and lifted the luggage with some struggle. He teetered on one of the steps before regaining his footing. "Sheesh, what'd you put in here? Rocks?"

"How'd you know?"

"What? Really?"

"No." Felix glided up the stairs ahead of Sylvain, who trudged after him in measured movements. "Hurry up, slowpoke."

"Hey, you're not the one who's being used as a pack mule!" he protested. 

"You volunteered to be said pack mule."

Felix skipped to the top. The dormitory hallway was almost bare of students since the Faerghuns had been the only ones to arrive at the monastery the day before orientation. Granted, that had been arranged thanks to Dimitri's anal need for punctuality - or to out-punctual punctuality. 

And speaking of the devil, Dimitri (and Dedue, of course) happened to be in the middle of the hall. 

"Felix!" Dimitri said, his smile glowing so bright that Felix could feel its warmth from where he stood. 

Felix waved at them and looked over his shoulder. Sylvain was still climbing those stairs. 

"Is everything alright?" Dimitri floated down towards him with Dedue close at his heel. 

"Yeah. I'm just waiting for Sylvain."

"Could use some help!" Sylvain's voice echoed. 

"So you've run into Sylvain. What is he doing?" Dimitri peered down the stairway next to Felix. "Sylvain, I thought you already had your luggage transferred to your room."

"Yeah, well, I'm now transferring Felix's luggage for him," Sylvain huffed. He placed a hand on his hip, his back hunched over like an old man's. "Seriously, Felix, what'd you put in there?"

"Whetstones," Felix answered.

"Wha - you said that there weren't any rocks in here!"

"Whetstones aren't just rocks."

"Doesn't the academy provide whetstones?" Dedue inquired, puzzled. 

"You can never be too prepared," Felix quoted Ingrid. Noticing that Sylvain couldn't muster any more strength to ascend the last ten steps, Felix nudged at Dimitri. "He's going to need your help."

Dedue frowned. "Your highness, I can do it - "

"No, it's quite alright," Dimitri chuckled. "I'll be more than happy to lend aid to a friend." 

Compared to Sylvain, Dimitri had no trouble hoisting the luggage up, and he even carried it down the hall to Felix's room, which happened to be near the very end of the hall.

Good thing that he had done so; Felix wouldn't be able to drag his belongings all the way over here.

"Whetstones? Seriously?" Sylvain reiterated. "I can't believe nearly broke my back carrying your freaking whetstones!"

"That'll serve you right when you ever decide to be generous again."

"Seeing how I'm not hearing a 'thank you,' I'll take your advice to heart."

"Felix," Dimitri tried to scold, but the lightness in his voice betrayed his amusement. 

"Fine," Felix conceded, rolling his eyes. "Thank you, Sylvain."

"I want more than a belated thanks," Sylvain sniffed. "I want a favor."

"Fine, fine. What do you want?"

"Don't know yet. I'll think of something."

That didn't sound too good, but Felix already gave his word. Shaking his head, he gave a fleeting scan of the area. Nothing particular stood out aside from the dim lighting and the doors that were set far apart from each other. It seemed that their bedrooms would be moderately spacious in contrast to the cramped quarters that Felix had imagined them to be. He glanced at the door to his door's right.

"Whose room is that?" he asked, pointing.

"That is mine. It seems that we will be neighbors," Dimitri said.

His arm shifted. "And that one?" 

"Mine," Sylvain said.

"Then Dedue's must be the one next to mine."

"That would be Claude von Reigan's room, the heir presumptive to House Reigan," Dedue said. Felix's brows furrowed. House Reigan? Where did he hear that before? Was it a major house in Adrestia or Leicester? He ought to know - he had crammed for that impromptu memorization test that his instructor had him do. 

Felix shook his head and asked, "Then where are you?"

"First floor."

"What? But you're Dimitri's retainer. Shouldn't you be on this floor?"

"It's quite alright, Felix," Dimitri said. "The arrangements have already been made, so there's not much that we can do about it."

"Hm." Felix frowned. "If you want, we can trade rooms. I know how much you'd prefer being next to Dimitri."

Dedue blinked. "Are you sure?"

"It's no big deal."

"If...that's the case, I will gladly accept your offer. You have my gratitude."

Felix nodded. When he turned around, he caught the tail-end of Dimitri's expression, but the prince had it quickly covered with a smile that he didn't get the chance to properly read him. Had it been surprise, perhaps? 

"That's very kind of you, Felix," Dimitri said.

Felix shrugged. "Like I said, it's no big deal." He looked down at the luggage set in front of his - Dedue's, now - door. "I'm going to need help carrying this thing downstairs, though."

"Wait, so I dragged your whetstones up here for nothing?" Sylvain whined.

* * *

The Officers Academy, Felix had to admit, was better than he had originally expected. Here, he had thought that it would have been a more formalized learning setting than what his tutors had cobbled up for him back in Fraldarius. He had gotten that, yes, but he had also gotten two things that he had always longed for: independence and a variety of sparring partners. 

Being far from his father's reach, Felix had the freedom to do whatever he wanted to do (within bounds, naturally). Sylvain, similarly, took the liberty to spread his wings and...flock over to women. Not exactly the kind of opportunity Felix would use for himself, but each to his own.

At least, they did what they could do without Ingrid's harping. Or Dimitri's needling. Even Dedue, who had once passively stood at the sidelines, would get involved, but likely on Dimitri's behalf so that the prince wouldn't worry himself to death.

Those who frequented the training grounds were always up for a sparring match. Caspar would be his most frequent partner, following Raphael, Petra, and Ferdinand. Everyone had different styles of combat, which made sparring interesting. Professor Byleth, however, had proven to be the most challenging and fun opponent he had ever faced. 

The man had years of experience under his belt, making him a formidable fighter - perhaps the best one Felix had seen yet. Furthermore, he was the Blue Lions' professor, which made things doubly better because his lessons strayed away from the rigid constraints that Felix had been accustomed to from his past teachers. That was the highlight of having a mercenary teach the class, not just some stuffy noble with noble-like principles. 

Nevertheless, no matter how less boring the professor had made his lectures be, classes were still classes, and that made them inherently dull. 

As the flow of the year began, a routine settled in and the novelty of his new surroundings faded. Felix found himself returning to the same agonizing pattern of waking up each morning, thinking, "Goddess, not again."

Each day was a trial and effort, but Felix managed to pull through as he always had. 

* * *

Some changes made everything a bit more tolerable, though. For instance, having his friends here. Or, more specifically, having Ingrid here. 

Ingrid was the only one who felt grounding to be around with. It was probably because the words that came out of her mouth usually stirred a small heat of irritation within him, as though there was enough of himself that could be angry like how he had been before the Tragedy. But it wouldn't be fair to wholly characterize her as an annoying nag who could draw a semblance of a reaction out of him; she was far more than that. 

Ingrid was a tide of familiarity that Felix sank into easily, comfortably. She was unchanging, therefore grounding. Meanwhile, Sylvain would easily grow bored with Felix's subpar company and abandon him to chase after women. Dimitri was a walking reminder of the horrors that Felix had witnessed. Every day, the prince would greet him with those eyes where darkness lurked behind them, pretending that he was a person instead of a beast. 

As for Dedue... Felix had known Dedue for a few years, but he was more so Dimitri's ubiquitous shadow than a friend. Which was a pity, yet, at the same time, Dedue was probably just as bland as Felix. What sort of distraction could there be reaped from if two bland people hung out? What would they even _talk_ about?

Where Ingrid would be off somewhere, leaving him by his lonesome as he normally would be, there were also his other classmates who deigned to interact with him. 

There was Mercedes with her infinite patience and kindness. She was very likable - everyone liked Mercedes, and it would practically be heresy not to - but she was too motherly for Felix to feel comfortable around her, and Felix shouldn't even know what a motherly figure ought to be like. His mother had died when he could barely remember her. Maybe Mercedes had that intrinsic motherly quality that everyone recognized regardless of their motherless status.

Felix liked her just fine, but being around her for too long felt weird. 

There was Annette with her effervescent personality and endearingly clumsy nature. She also got easily annoyed with Felix whenever he tried to do something nice for her. He once complimented her singing and dancing footwork, and she called him evil. He once made an effort to appear engaging and invested by asking her about her lyrics, and she accused him of making fun of her. He genuinely didn't understand where she got that idea; all he wanted to know what would happen after the library got blown away. 

Felix really did enjoy her singing, though, so he kept a mental note to figure out how he could get her to sing again with him around.

And, finally, there was Ashe, his neighbor. 

Earnest, mild-mannered, and idealistic. He was basically a figment of what Felix had been and could have been. Should have been. The way Ashe blithely rambled about knighthood and stories of knighthood and his dreams of becoming a knight would fill Felix's mouth with bile, incurring memories of his childhood where he had done the same thing.

Chasing after Glenn, looking up at Glenn, revering Glenn. Wanting to be a knight just like Glenn. Being around Ashe made Felix's stomach churn with indignation that his apathy had buried years ago.

Felix kept him around. Ashe was his new best friend.

* * *

Where Dimitri had been reserved after the Tragedy - after the Western Rebellion - he now approached Felix without any hesitation. Sometimes, the prince would face him with sunny smiles and effusive affection. Sometimes, he would bear pink-tinted cheeks with a strange shyness in his demeanor. Regardless of whatever mood Dimitri would be in, he always exuded warmth whenever he was with Felix. 

For Felix, though, he would see a fifteen-year-old Dimitri gleefully cleaving himself a bloody path, freely shrieking in delight as he scampered across a field of bodies that were decimated in his wake. Felix would then blink and notice Dimitri - two years older, prim and proper and clean - smiling down at him. 

"I always admired how skilled you are with the sword," Dimitri told him. They were taking a break from sparring, sitting on the steps as they caught their breaths. The adrenaline coursing through him had Felix wanting to go for another round, but Dimitri had convinced him to allow a minute of rest. "It's as though you were made for it."

"To allow one's ability to atrophy is no different than abandoning the ability as a whole," Felix quoted his father. His delivery was unintentionally flat (he was more tired than he thought), yet Dimitri somehow misconstrued that as a joke.

"Ah, I recognize one of Rodrigue's usual sayings," Dimitri chuckled. "He would tell us that often when we would train under him as children. Was that your way of saying how you practice often?"

"I do," Felix confirmed. 

"Then your dedication is commendable. I wouldn't be surprised if you become a swordmaster halfway into the school year."

"Don't exaggerate."

"I wouldn't. I'm not."

Felix wiped a bead of sweat off his forehead. "Hm."

Dimitri quirked a smile. "Fine, I suppose I was exaggerating, but only by a minuscule, I assure you," he said, continuing to misunderstand him. Felix didn't bother correcting him that his response hadn't been out of dubiety but just for the sake of responding itself. He didn't care much as to what the prince thought. And he didn't need to. Dimitri seemed to regard him highly no matter what he did. 

Unlike Sylvain or Ingrid, Dimitri never had moments where he would excuse himself from Felix's company. Felix was well-aware just how _unstimulating_ his personality could be, and he knew when a person would be faking his enjoyment just to spare Felix's feelings (Ashe), hence his own disbelief as to why Dimitri would continuously wish for his company.

Maybe Dimitri had practice dealing with such people with Dedue, who was essentially a statue in animation. 

Or maybe it wasn't a matter of Dimitri being used to be around boring people, but that he liked to be around boring people. As Felix thought about it, it made sense (somewhat). 

In Dimitri's grandly understated tumultuous life, perhaps he craved for something simple and easy. Felix wasn't a complicated person nor did he treat Dimitri with the formalities that the prince held a disdain for. With Felix, Dimitri could be as carefree as he wished to be without fearing judgment. Dedue must be the same way for Dimitri given his staunch loyalty. 

Felix picked up the practice sword next to him and rolled onto his feet. "Minute's up."

"Eager to get back to fighting, are we?"

Eager to get a move on. Sitting around, talking about their childhood, and contemplating on aspects of this half-sane prince were hardly activities that entertained Felix for long. "You got that right," he replied instead. "Let's see if you can beat me this round."

* * *

Comments like "You're like a two-dimensional character," "You can't rely on swordsmanship on being your personality," and "I might as well talk to a wall" weren't that common, but they were made on occasion. Courtesy of Sylvain.

This was how Felix had first learned that he was a boring person - Sylvain would tell him. Just as Ingrid and his father would let Felix know how he could never live up to Glenn's memory, Sylvain would let him know that there wasn't anything interesting about him. 

(Although, Felix had trouble differentiating when Sylvain would be joking or not. The elder had a tendency to use the same convivial tone for anything.) 

Anyway, today was such an occasion where Sylvain would see fit to inform him of such, and then his solution to the matter at hand. 

"You, me, and a couple of pretty ladies on a night into town." Sylvain waggled his eyebrows. "Eh? Whaddya say?"

Felix opened his mouth to say no - dating sounded like a drag - but Sylvain cut him off by saying, "Remember how you owe me a favor? Well, I'm cashing in that favor right now!"

Felix stared at him. "You're using your favor on this?"

"I'm doing you a favor too when you think about it." Sylvain slung an arm around his shoulders. "Come on, buddy. When's the last time you've been on a date?"

"I haven't."

"Exactly."

The notion that a date could liven up his personality was ridiculous. Alas, Felix had promised to do Sylvain a favor, and if this was it, then so be it. Thus, with great reluctance, Felix relented and allowed himself to be dragged away by an eager Sylvain. 

The ladies in question were two commoners who were around their age, both villagers who lived next to the monastery. Sylvain released Felix so that he could saunter up to one of them and offer her his arm. Felix turned his attention onto the other girl, who smiled timidly up at him. 

Nothing passed between them, unlike how Sylvain and his date were already sharing laughs and flirtations. 

As Felix cycled through all the social conventions that he had been taught as a child, the girl said, "Um, I'm Madison. It's a pleasure to meet you."

"Felix," Felix replied almost reflexively. He nodded. "Likewise."

Silence fell over them again. Felix glanced at Sylvain, waiting for his friend's cue. As though prompted, Sylvain gave everyone his full attention as he brought up an outline for today's events, deliberately being vague on the details to allow any objections or suggestions. When everyone made their agreement, they made their move as a group.

Sylvain and his lady company - Beatrice or Bella- ambled ahead of them. Their laughter drifted around them like a cloud, creating their own intimate bubble of space. Sylvain had an arm curled around the woman's waist as he murmured something in her ear, and Beatrice - or Bella- giggled as she playfully pushed him away.

Felix and Madison, on the other hand, walked with a respectable distance set between them. They still didn't say anything, and Felix had no idea what to say. What could he say? What was his training regimen like? How many ways could he slice a bandit? Battle tactics? Felix might not be the sharpest blade in the weapons rack, but he wasn't so stupid as to make any of that a conversation topic, especially with someone who obviously wasn't a combatant.

"S-so," Madison began, bringing Felix's thoughts to a halt, "I, um, heard that you were the heir to your house. House Fradalus?"

"Fraldarius," Felix corrected. 

"Fraldarius! Right, sorry - my apologies, I mean," Madison fumbled over her words, and she knew it too given the way her face turned bright red. She ducked her head, her fringe obscuring her eyes. 

The oppressive weight of awkwardness was getting to him. Felix was already weary of this date and wanted to return to the monastery, and it hadn't even been five minutes. But he couldn't just leave - Sylvain likely would complain about him not upholding his promise; Sylvain probably would complain about him not putting any effort into this date, while at it. 

Felix thought what Sylvain would do if he was in his shoes, and then decided to think about what Dimitri would do. Dimitri would either handle the situation with little grace, revealing himself to be the dorky, ungainly young man he truly was; or he would put on his princely facade and expertly respond in a genteel manner. Felix opted for the latter. 

"You don't have to be concerned about formalities," he assured her. "I'm not one to care so much for them, anyway, so you can chill out."

Inwardly, Felix cringed. "Chill out" was definitely not in Dimitri's vernacular. 

Bella certainly wasn't expecting him to say that either. She gave him a wide-eyed look before dropping it in favor of observing the ground. Felix stared at the passing buildings. 

He then heard a giggle.

"That was a good one," Madison said, peeking through her fringe. There was a small smile on her face. At Felix's blank incomprehension, her smile fell. "Um, your pun."

"I made a pun?"

"Oh, you didn't. Sorry!" She flushed again. "I, ah, thought that you did, seeing how you're from Faerghus and all. I mean, Faerghus is very cold, isn't it?"

His brows furrowed. He was still confused. "It is, but what does Faerghus has to do with this aforementioned pun?"

"You said 'chill out,' so...um..."

It took Felix a second to understand. "Oh."

"Yeah..."

Silence again. 

Madison tried to revive more small talk and Felix tried to engage, but the conversation would ultimately fall short and dead. After a while, Madison stopped trying and Felix found himself wishing that he was back on the training grounds with a sword in his hand. 

* * *

"You know, Felix, you're a really good listener!" Ashe declared. They were in Dedue's room, studying - or, at least, they had been studying. Ashe had read a passage from their assignment that had reminded him of the chivalrous tales of Loog and Kyphon, and then all thoughts about studying had been plunged from his mind as he had regaled to everyone how such stories had spurred his knightly ideals. 

Felix didn't know why Ashe had called him out in particular, but he assumed that the other boy was alluding to the other times when Felix would sit through Ashe's usual blather. 

"I verily concur," Dimitri chimed in. "Felix was quite attentive when I complained about the council's latest decision on the fund allocations. I was frustrated with my uncle at the time, but I thankfully had Felix's patient ear to allow me to vent." With that, Dimitri gave him a dazzling smile.

Felix resolved to never bring up how he had tuned out most of Dimitri's complaints at that time.

"It's nice that Felix is always willing to listen to us. Although, I can't help but point out that he isn't the most talkative," Ashe said.

"There's nothing wrong with that. Some people are naturally more so listeners than talkers. Wouldn't you agree, Dedue?"

Dedue nodded. 

"That is true," Ashe conceded, "but what I meant was whether Felix wished for us to listen to him for once."

Felix belatedly realized that everyone was staring at him when the silence had prolonged. He blinked back into awareness. "What?"

"Felix, my apologies!" Dimitri suddenly exclaimed, startling Felix into dropping his graphite. "I didn't mean to pile my troubles onto you while neglecting your own! I - I have failed you as a friend - "

"Oh, no!" Ashe wailed. "Your highness, I didn't bring that up just to make you feel guilty! If you're a bad friend because of that, then I'm the worst friend!"

Before Dimitri could open his mouth to object, Dedue swiftly interjected, "Perhaps this can be rectified if we make an attempt starting today."

Dimitri and Ashe considered that suggestion before their faces lit up. "That's a good idea, Dedue," Ashe enthused. He then enthusiastically asked Felix, "Is there anything you want to tell us? Just let it all out!"

"Yes, whatever troubles or worries that weigh on your mind, we'll gladly help you find the solution," Dimitri said with equal amounts of enthusiasm. 

Felix was disconcerted. "Uh, no, I'm good."

"Nonsense! There must be something bothers you," Dimitri insisted.

This conversation, Felix thought, but he knew better than to say that aloud. For one, Dimitri would respond to that with sadness, and a sad Dimitri would mean a disgruntled Dedue. And then Dedue would kick Felix out of his room, leaving him exposed to the world where Ingrid could make a pounce on him. 

This was why he was here. Ingrid wouldn't think about knocking on Dedue's door, so she wouldn't get the chance to yell at him for going along with Sylvain's date plan. Felix didn't know how Ingrid had found out, but he didn't care to ask, especially not when the girl was on a warpath. 

(He had to sacrifice Sylvain to make his escape. He could still hear the echoes of Sylvain's betrayed cries ringing in his head.)

Felix stifled a sigh, looking away from the hopeful and expectant gazes sent his way. A group of young men gathered in a room, now discussing their feelings - that made an odd picture. At least, it did in Felix's mind - and for anything that was normal. This wasn't normal. This was weird. 

Felix didn't want to talk about his feelings of all things; he wanted to talk about how to solve the next problem on their assignment. He had been waiting for Ashe to shut up about his fairy tales just so bring that up, but then the topic had shifted from that to Felix without warning.

And now they were stuck on him until he gave them the response they wanted to hear. If Dimitri and Ashe had rejected his earlier dismissal, then they might do so for his next.

He picked up his writing utensil, chewed on his lower lip, and then said the first thing that popped in his mind. "Sylvain asked me to do a favor for him."

"I remember you promising to do him one," Dimitri said, nodding. "So, what did he ask of you?"

"Go on a double date with him."

Dimitri's smile fell. "Pardon?"

"He brought these two girls from the village. My date - " crap, what was her name again? " - Madison was a nice person, but the whole thing was awkward."

Ashe leaned forward, his eyes glimmering. "How was it awkward?"

This was the most interested he had ever seen in Ashe. "I'm a poor conversationalist."

A beat passed. "Well, I can't say that I disagree," Ashe said wryly. "Tell us what you two talked about."

Felix begrudgingly did so, and Ashe hummed intermittently while rubbing his chin, looking uncannily like Professor Hanneman whenever he received an intriguing question. 

When he was done, Ashe gave his input, explaining (pontificating) to Felix on how he could be a better date for next time. 

Felix didn't care about being a better date; he didn't intend on being a date again. There sure as hell wouldn't be a "next time." But if he said that, then Ashe might ask, "Then why did you even bring it up if you weren't bothered by it?" And then Felix would have to come up with another lie to make it seem that he really was bothered by it. Or he would be forced to tell the truth, and then everyone would be dismayed that he had lied in the beginning.

So, Felix nodded, making a show that he was taking mental notes when he would simply discard them by the end of the day. For someone who had never been on a romantic outing with a girl, Ashe certainly had particular notions on what a date ought to be. Maybe this was the result of reading one too many stories. 

When Ashe finished, the shorter boy turned to Dedue and asked, "What do you think?"

"I have no opinions on the matter," Dedue placidly responded. "Romantic overtures elude me."

Ashe pouted. "Is that so? Then what about you, your highness? Your highness?"

Dimitri, who had appeared lost in thought, flinched when he had been called again. He sheepishly rubbed his head. "Forgive me. I was...surprised to hear that Felix had such concerns." Felix really didn't. "But it does make sense, seeing how we're at the doorway to adulthood."

"That we are," Ashe said. "You must have your own worries about courtship yourself, your highness. After all, a king must have a queen."

Dimitri laughed nervously. "Well..."

With the attention pulled away from him, Felix returned to his assignment. It didn't seem that the others would be getting to it any time soon, so he might as well get a head-start. 

* * *

Felix realized that he didn't like being around Ingrid anymore. That wasn't to say that he disliked her herself - he stilled liked her - but being around her made him feel weary than grounded. The heat of anger that had once made his pulse quicken and his hair raise had been doused. Her words no longer provided him the rise of a fight; they just burdened him. 

He realized this when he found himself avoiding her more so than seeking her out. 

Dedue made a nice Ingrid-deterrent, so he hung around the Duscuran nowadays. Dedue would raise his eyebrow whenever Felix sidled up next to him, but he wouldn't say anything, which Felix greatly appreciated. He was, in fact, beginning to appreciate having company that wouldn't talk at all.

He also saw less of Sylvain in the meantime. He wondered if that correlated to his newfound companion in Dedue or if Sylvain just gave up on him. Either way, it didn't matter. 

Of course, spending time with Dedue also meant spending time with Dimitri. Somehow, Felix wasn't too bothered by this despite the inconvenient flashes of the past.

Dimitri had been a strange combination of chatty and subdued recently. Felix was getting the sense that there was something significant he ought to parse out, yet, whenever he would dwell on it, the edges of his understanding would slip from his grasp and he would resume in his confusion. 

Ashe continued to talk to him about his dreams and knighthood, and then he would leave when he had nothing else to say. Ashe probably took a page out of Sylvain's book after growing a backbone. 

Felix couldn't get Annette to sing for him anymore. He had kept saying the wrong things and, eventually, Annette had outright called him a villain. That had been startling to hear, so Felix endeavored to leave her alone. 

Mercedes, ever the matronly saint of the Blue Lions, still weirded him out. 

Professor Byleth started greeting him whenever they crossed paths. He counted the days when the man would stop. 

Caspar didn't spar with him as much anymore and Felix had no idea why. He didn't care to ask, although, admittedly, he did miss fighting the Black Eagle student. At least Raphael, Petra, and Ferdinand were still up for a match. 

The days went by. Felix rose early in the morning and turned in late in the night. Eat food, attend class, go train. Friends would come and friends would go. Rinse and repeat. Nothing out of the ordinary. 

There were days, however, when he would wake up and the thought of doing it all over again would mire him to the bed. Moving would feel like wading through molasses, and having to go through the same routine would be a test of sheer willpower. 

Sometimes, he would think, "Goddess, just strike me dead. I'm done." Other times, though, he would think, "Goddess, please let there be spiced sausages for breakfast. That's the only thing that I'm getting up for." When there wouldn't be spiced sausages for breakfast, he would think, "Maybe a bandit will strike me instead."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I wanted to write a character where everyone thinks, "He's okay, but he doesn't really stand out. Kind of boring." Outwardly, he's dull; internally, he's a HOT MESS.
> 
> Anyway, I like all of the Blue Lions, Ingrid and Sylvain especially, but since this is Felix's POV, some of them are cast under a negative light.


	2. Chapter 2

Life at the academy was becoming interesting. In the most terrible way possible. 

Lonato had died. Miklan had died. Flayn had been kidnapped. Tomas, the old librarian who Felix had likened to a grandfather, had turned out to be an evil miser. So many terrible things had occurred, but the one thing that had stood out to Felix the most was what had gone down in Remire Village. 

After bearing witness to the slaughter, Dimitri's mask had begun to crack. It wouldn't take long until the prince would reveal his true beastly nature, it seemed. 

Oh, and the Death Knight was someone significant to consider as well. Felix's mind drifted to Professor Jeritza every time he thought about the mysterious armored man.

* * *

Nighttime was a time where everyone would retire to their quarters and sleep. As such, Felix had been asleep. In his room. On his bed. At least, that was what he had thought when he was roused awake, seeing Dimitri's face hovering over his. 

Felix squinted. "Wha...?"

"Felix!" Dimitri gave a squeaky hushed yell. The prince went on to say something else, but Felix didn't - couldn't - process his words. He was confused as to what Dimitri was doing here. Felix blinked several times before pushing himself upright into a sitting position.

He blearily looked around. It dark, but the moonlight filtering through the window allowed him to see that Dimitri was indeed standing beside him. And that he was in a room and on a bed. Felix's brain took a few seconds to sluggishly piece together the conclusion that he was in Dimitri's room instead of his.

Felix didn't understand how he could have made that mistake, seeing how the prince's room was on the second floor whereas his room was on the first floor, but the fact of the matter was that he wasn't. In his room, that was. 

"Sorry," Felix slurred. "I didn't mean to."

Dimitri blinked owlishly. "Felix?"

Felix slid out of the bed and plodded towards the door, but Dimitri's grip on his shoulder prevented him from taking another step. 

"Fe-Felix, where are you going?" Dimitri whispered, his voice incredulous.

Felix looked over his shoulder. "This is your room."

"What? No, this is _your_ room." 

"Oh." He frowned. "Wait, how are you here, then?"

Dimitri made incomprehensible sounds. Felix decided that he was too tired to bother trying to decipher his gibberish, so he plodded back to the - _his_ \- bed, slid under the covers, and closed his eyes. 

He then shot up, eyes wide. 

"Wait," he said, "this is _my_ room. What are you doing here, Dimitri?"

Dimitri didn't immediately answer. Instead, he made even more weird noises, like a strangled aborted cry. He then sighed, his shoulders slumping, and plopped a seat next to Felix's knees. 

"I just wanted to see you," he said haltingly.

Felix stared. "In the middle of the night?"

Dimitri's pallid cheeks darkened. "I apologize for being intrusive," he said in a rush. "This is highly improper of me, I realize. I'll just take my leave - "

"Wait," he said for the second time - because, for Felix's sake, Dimitri needed to slow down. He was still barely awake and not entirely believing that the prince had gone downstairs and had sneaked inside his room and had watched him sleep. That was hardly Dimitri-like behavior. But if this wasn't Dimitri, then who was he? Dimitri. Felix rubbed his temple at the the circular logic that his brain had conjured. "You came here. To me."

"Y-yes."

"Why me?"

Dimitri took his time answering again. When he didn't respond after five seconds, an unpleasant tendril of heat formed within Felix. His fingers curled into the fabric of his shirt at the sensation. Was this agitation? No - it wasn't that, but it was similar. Impatience. He was being impatient towards Dimitri. He felt impatient. 

Huh, Felix thought. Maybe he should attend his classes sleep-deprived from now on. 

But, as usual, the feeling waned into nothingness, leaving behind a barren of himself. Felix sighed and tipped himself backwards so that he flopped onto his back. 

Dimitri misunderstood why he sighed given the guilty look he gave him. "It's just as I said... I wanted to see you." The words tumbled out of the prince's mouth as though he was a sinner in a confessional. Felix's confusion mounted.

"Uh, so there's no reason?"

"There is," Dimitri struggled to say. "There is something that I wish to know."

"For what?"

"It's a little - " He waffled for a moment. "It's odd for me to say."

Dimitri being here was already odd. "I can take it," Felix assured him. 

"I know that you can, but the oddity would be more so for me than for you," he murmured. "Yet since I've imposed myself onto you, I should explain." 

"Yeah, an answer for why my sleep has been disrupted would be nice," he agreed. 

Dimitri grimaced. "Once again, I apologize. If there is anything else I can do to make reparations, please do not hesitate to let me know."

What a turnaround. Instead of Felix owing a favor, a favor was now owed to him, and by a prince, no less. "I'll hold you to it. Now, explanation?"

"Right, of course... Well, if I would have to preface this, I would say that my mind has been...troubled as of late. Immensely so."

Immensely? That was an understatement. 

"After all the craziness that's been happening, like the Flame Emperor, you've been under a lot of stress," Felix figured. 

Dimitri bobbed his head. "And I haven't been acting like myself as a result." Now _that_ was an overstatement. A lunatic monster was what he truly was. "I fear that I'll lose myself and frighten everyone..." Everyone was already - well, perhaps not frightened, but they were certainly wary. And shocked. "No, in fact, I already have done so." That was what Felix was saying. "But you aren't."

Felix quirked a brow. "Aren't what?"

"Frightened," Dimitri intoned softly. 

Not frightened - he was wary like everyone else. But hard to be shocked by something that he had known for years. "Dedue didn't seem scared," Felix elected to say instead.

"Dedue is steadfastly loyal, but I know that he is concerned like all the rest. Even the professor. But you..." Dimitri angled his body so that he was slightly leaning towards Felix. His hand - bare and visibly scarred - hung above Felix's face. Felix distantly wondered if Dimitri was going to touch him. "When I looked at you, I saw no fear, no hesitation. Why is that?"

As they stared into each other's eyes, Felix went through an internal sequence of "crap, crap, crap, crap." He hadn't been prepared for this! He hadn't thought that his non-reaction would elicit a reaction out of Dimitri! Now Felix had to do one of the many things that he sucked at - coming up with a lie on the spot.

Felix chewed on his lower lip as he debated on what he should say. Should he tell Dimitri that he had an impressive poker face? Or that he hadn't noticed Dimitri acting any differently than usual? His thoughts then screeched to a halt when Dimitri suddenly leaned in closer. His eyes widened in surprise. 

The pale glow of the moon cascaded over the prince's face as he observed Felix intently, his expression open in its awe. In this lighting, Dimitri even appeared reverent, especially when his fingertips ghosted across Felix's cheek. 

Felix reflexively slapped his hand away and scratched his skin. Dimitri's fingers might not have touched him, but his nails sure did. They were tickly. 

Dimitri yanked himself away as though he was a puppet moved by strings, looking incredibly abashed as he blushed again. "My apologies! I got ahead of myself!" he whisper-yelped. 

Yeah, he sure was. The situation was getting weird. Weirder. "My poker face is stellar," Felix grunted out his lie. "There's your answer. Now I want to sleep."

Dimitri gaped. 

"It's the middle of the night," Felix reminded him. "We have class in - " What time was it? " - some hours. I don't know. Point is: We won't be able to face another day if we're exhausted. And if we're exhausted, we won't be able to think with clarity. And without clarity, we won't be able to..." He cut himself off with a yawn. He hadn't realized he had been rambling until now. "You get the point."

"Felix," Dimitri began, and the weight of his voice seized Felix's attention, waving away his encroaching sleepiness, "you seldom smile, but you openly react to anything that startles you. How I was behaving would've warranted a reaction, and yet you were unphased. Why would you lie to me? Are you actually afraid of me now?"

"I wasn't lying about being tired," Felix groaned. He definitely didn't want to deal with this. "And I'm not afraid."

"I'm sorry to say that I don't believe you," Dimitri said glumly. 

Saints above. This boy. 

Felix, not knowing what else to say, simply waited for Dimitri to get up and leave. Dimitri, however, didn't leave; he continued to sit on Felix's bed, sulking and pouting. Gone was the prince who looked like he had witnessed the Goddess-induced miracle; here was a kicked puppy shaped like a human being. Felix stared at the ceiling, wondering if this was what Dedue felt when babysitting Dimitri. 

Well, no, never mind. Dedue hardly ever expressed annoyance or resignation when dealing with Dimitri. The Duscuran probably didn't even mind putting up with him when he was like this - like he was ten-eleven-twelve-thirteen-years-old again who would slip next to Felix on his bed and cling onto his hand whenever he had a nightmare. These occurrences had been commonplace whenever the Fraldarius would visit the Blaiddyd Castle. 

But Dedue...hadn't actually experienced Dimitri like this, did he? Otherwise, Dimitri would be in Dedue's room and not his. 

Oh. Maybe Dimitri really did want to see him. Or sleep together like how he had when they were children. 

Felix scooted to one side of the bed and flipped open as much of the covers that Dimitri hadn't pinned down with his rear end. He patted the empty spot and said, "Get in."

"Felix?" 

"You're tired too. I can tell." Not really. It was still too dark to see. "And, this way, I can prove to you that I'm not afraid of you."

Dimitri didn't move or say anything. He was hesitating again, but, this time, Felix didn't feel the same bloom of impatience. He was in that strange impasse where his body was begging for sleep and yet his mind wouldn't willingly shut down - not when it was aware of Dimitri just sitting there, staring at him. 

After a minute passed, Felix wondered if Dimitri had heard his offer. Before he opened his mouth to reiterate, Dimitri moved. The prince was now lying supine next to him, his shoulder brushing against his as he provided a close solid presence. The additional warmth trapped beneath the covers sent a wave of drowsiness crashing over him, compelling Felix to yawn again. 

"Like how we were children," he heard Dimitri say.

"Mm." Felix blinked slowly at him. "Oh. There's only one pillow."

"I'm fine like this," Dimitri said, his breath hitting Felix's face. "Thank you for allowing me to stay. And for not being afraid of me."

"Sure thing." Before Felix could drift away, a question popped into his head. "By the way, how did you get in here when the door was locked?"

Dimitri stiffened, and then sheepishly admitted, "I broke your lock."

Felix exhaled. "You couldn't wait until morning to see me?"

"I'm sorry," Dimitri whimpered. 

The next morning, Felix woke up to Dimitri's arms wound around him, holding him tightly against his chest. Felix wriggled himself free, waking Dimitri up in the process. To their luck, it was early in the morning, so Dimitri was able to leave without being spotted by anyone, including the hypersensitive Professor Byleth whose room was next to Felix's. 

* * *

Dimitri was adamant that Felix attended the ball. 

Felix said that he would go if Dimitri owed him a favor. 

The prince now owed Felix two favors. Ha!

* * *

Professor Byleth's father had died. Everything really was going to hell in a hand-basket. 

* * *

Correction: Edelgard - the Flame Emperor - had declared war and all the students were caught in the crossfire. Oh, and Professor Byleth had died from falling into a pit. Now, this was hell. 

Felix's day had never been this interesting since, well, before. 

* * *

Dimitri had allegedly murdered his uncle, the regent, in cold blood. Cornelia Arnim, the court mage, had Dimitri executed and proceeded to run the Kingdom in a way that his father wholeheartedly disagreed with. More so than when the Lord Regent Rufus had been on the throne. Felix figured that his father was like this because Cornelia was responsible for Dimitri's death. 

His father didn't believe that Dimitri had been capable of committing such atrocity. Then again, his father hadn't seen how Dimitri had been like after learning that Edelgard had been the Flame Emperor all this time. 

Being the heir apparent to the House Fraldarius, the second most powerful house of Faerghus, was highly problematic because Felix was now immersed in this sticky political turmoil. Politics always flew over his head, so he had no idea what was going on. The only bright side to this was when his father would point at a direction and tell him to swing his sword. Easy. Simple. 

They were at war, desperately fighting for their independence that they had long ago wrested from the Empire. That was fine and all, but a lot of people were going to die from this war. Perhaps it would be better just to surrender and let Edelgard rule over the continent.

* * *

"How can you be so calm about this?" Sylvain had asked him. They had been outside of Dimitri's door where they could hear crashing and smashing and snarling from the other side. Dedue had been missing for some reason. 

Felix had glanced at the door before looking back at Sylvain. He had briefly considered lying, but the look on Sylvain's face had told him that the older boy would catch on to his lie. "I always knew about Dimitri."

"You mean him being like - like that?"

Felix had nodded. 

"Since when?"

"During the Western Rebellion. He acted just like that back then like how he is now."

Sylvain had stared at him as though he had sprouted a second head. Felix had brushed his hands over his shoulders just to make sure. "And you didn't mention this to anyone...why?"

"Would it change anything?"

"Uh, yeah? Of course it would! We could have done something to prevent him from falling apart! Are you for real, Felix?"

Felix had doubted that. It was easier to say what they could have done when the opportunity had passed them.

Sylvain could have saved Miklan from turning into a Black Beast. Ingrid could have convinced her father to ease up on the marriage candidates. His father could have done a better job discouraging King Lambert from taking that trip to Duscur. Felix could have trained and studied more to become Glenn's perfect replacement. 

Or maybe Felix could have lashed out and made it be known that he didn't want to become Glenn's replacement, that he didn't want to be constantly compared to Glenn, that he would never become Glenn. Then maybe everyone would just see Felix, not Glenn's younger brother, the backup heir, the replacement. Then maybe Felix could stop having these impossible fantasies of running away. 

The thing was: Everyone was inherently selfish, too absorbed with their own problems to dispense any concern for others. Sylvain, for instance, had been too busy distracting himself with women and flings, too preoccupied with himself to see past his issues to help another. 

It would be easy to say, "If only you said something earlier," and pin the blame on the person withholding the information as though that _honest-to-the-Goddess_ would do _anything_. As if he, Felix alone, had been made culpable for the prince's crumbling sanity that had been inevitable to happen. Dimitri had been bound to break, and that had been the truth. 

But instead of relaying his thoughts to Sylvain, Felix had simply shrugged and said, "Sorry."

Sylvain had sighed. "Seriously, buddy. What the hell?"

* * *

Sylvain and Ingrid had dragged Felix to Garreg Mach for the Millennium Festival reunion. They ended up finding the miraculously alive prince and professor. 

Dimitri looked like shit. 

"Felix!" Ingrid snapped, smacking him. Felix didn't realize that he had said that aloud. 

"Enough of this," Dimitri growled. "We don't have time to prattle about."

The prince skulked away, his cape swishing behind him in a way that was distinctly ominous. And with his hulking height and build, greasy stringy hair, and eyepatch that complemented his dead-fish-eye glower, Dimitri looked like something that crawled out of his nightmares. 

Ingrid smacked him again, letting him know that he had voiced his thoughts aloud again. 

* * *

Under Professor Byleth - well, just Byleth now. Anyway, under the man's leadership, the former Blue Lions were able to push back the Imperial army. Everyone would say that Dimitri was the one marshaling the fight, but, really, he was mostly the sword whereas Byleth was the wielder. Dimitri did an excellent job being a harbinger of slaughter, though. 

They also faced the Alliance, who didn't know whether to align themselves with the Kingdom or the Empire. 

Felix himself would occasionally wonder why he was fighting for a mad prince who only cared about decapitating Edelgard, but then he would remember that he would have to bear with Ingrid's nagging and his father's disapproval if he didn't fight for Faerghus. Those didn't do much to get a rise out of him anymore; they just made him feel tired, and Felix was tired of feeling tired. 

In any case, if the Alliance surrendered to the Empire, then more enemies to cross swords with. Wasn't that fun? Not to mention the higher probability of Felix getting put out of his misery. Now, that was a bonus.

* * *

After five years, Dimitri had changed. He no longer hid behind a princely facade; rather, he prowled around the cathedral as though he was a territorial beast, growling at anyone who tried to communicate with him. He finally embraced the monster within. 

When he would deign to converse, he would be sure to tell everyone how he saw them as tools for his quest for vengeance, and that the dead must have the Emperor's head in order to rest. He liked to talk about Edelgard and her head often; it was his favorite topic nowadays. 

Dimitri used to be pristine, but he now marinated in his own filth. He really stank up the cathedral, his new permanent dwelling, mainly because he used it as a chamber pot. It was _fortunate_ that Dimitri didn't heap a pile of excrement where anyone could see it, but the stench didn't detract the fact that his pile of excrement was indeed somewhere among the rubble. Incredibly disgusting, especially knowing that Dimitri ate and slept in there. 

Amazingly, the prince hadn't abandoned his humanity entirely to forgo his personal hygiene, but he nevertheless carried a nose-wrinkling smell whenever he was within close proximity. 

Felix couldn't imagine what hardships Dimitri had to endure during his self-imposed exile, but, hey, at least the prince got to romp around in the woods, trouncing as many Imperial soldiers to his heart's delight. Meanwhile, Felix had been stuck dealing with politics, which was certainly a worse fate. 

* * *

"Sylvain told me that you're the closest to Dimitri," said Mercedes. 

Felix was sure that a five-year separation negated that closeness. 

"What about it?" asked Felix.

"I was wondering if you can convince him to eat. I'm worried that he's nothing but skin and bones underneath that armor."

Ugh. Did that mean entering the cathedral? Felix was about to refuse, but then Mercedes gave him a _look_. 

"I'll do what I can," Felix sighed, earning himself a dazzling smile. 

Ten minutes later, Felix found himself carrying a plate. If his destination wasn't the cathedral, then this change of pace would have been pleasant. 

War was becoming quite routine, surprisingly: Eat food, attend meetings, go train. If he wasn't doing the last two, he would be out on the battlefield, risking his neck so that Dimitri could inch his way closer to getting Edelgard's head. The way the man would wax poetry about spilling the Emperor's blood almost made Felix think that Dimitri was retaliating as a spurned lover. 

Wait, maybe that was it. Maybe Dimitri had been in love with Edelgard back in the academy, hence why he had reacted badly upon finding out. 

Well, everything made sense now! No wonder Dimitri was obsessed with Edelgard. And her head. As Felix patted himself on the back at his superb deductive abilities, he gingerly entered the cathedral. Of course, being the smart person that he was, he had the foresight to pinch his nose upon his arrival.

Dimitri was standing motionlessly towards the front, his back turned. If he had heard Felix, he didn't show it. Felix strode forward, his footsteps echoing within the hollow space of the building. 

"Time to eat," Felix said, his voice nasally. Dimitri didn't acknowledge his response. Felix repeated himself, putting more force and volume in his announcement, but he still garnered no reaction.

Felix looked mournfully at the plate, which now had three flies occupying it. Dimitri probably wasn't interested in eating; he probably didn't want to pull away from his...ruminations, while at it. 

Felix half-considered dumping the food elsewhere and pretending that he had completed the task, but wasting rations would be a terrible thing to do, especially when they were at war. Also, he didn't want to take the chance of Mercedes not finding out; of course she would find out, and then she would give him that disappointed motherly stare that made his skin crawl.

If talking to Dimitri wouldn't work, then what would? His eyes drifted around the area, hoping to evoke an idea, and then they landed on a rock the size of his thumb. He picked it up and lobbed it at Dimitri's head. 

The second the rock made its impact, Dimitri whirled around and bared his teeth. His eye was wide in its visceral rage, and his voice boomed as he demanded, "Who goes there?"

"Hey," said Felix, holding up the plate. "Time to eat."

Dimitri jolted as though he had seen a ghost. His lips moved wordlessly as his eye pinned down on Felix's face. Finally, he uttered, "Glenn?"

Felix froze.

"Glenn, I told you, I will have her head," Dimitri rasped, his expression shuttering away into solemnity. He hunched over as though attempting to make himself appear smaller, and his voice became weaker when he began to plea. "I will fulfill my promise, so...so I beg of you..."

Everything went silent; everything went still. Yet although nothing went on on the outside, it was as though there was a thunderstorm rampaging on the inside. 

Felix heard his pulse thrumming in his ears, going in tandem to the painful thumping in his chest. Pinpricks flared at the back of his neck and his head was full of wool. He couldn't think, but feel - intensely so - and the only thing he felt like doing was to launch the plate at Dimitri. 

His throat was tight from the lump that had taken form. When he tried to swallow it, there was an uncomfortable pressure built inside his ears. He dropped his hand from his nose, and the smell suddenly wasn't so odious anymore. Not as offensive as the words that had left Dimitri's mouth. 

Felix waited for the feeling to either pass or amplify, but it did neither of those things. Instead, it lingered. It didn't have the same burning as anger or hatred. Perhaps it had been anger at first, but it was quick to evolve into something else. It was heavy, but not in the way weariness was; no, it was an emotion that had already existed in the corner of his heart but amplified this time. 

He hadn't been so close to crying since eleven years ago until now. 

"Yup, it's me, Glenn," said Felix, his voice void of tears, hitches, croaks. His voice rang with perfect clarity, airy in its quality. He presented the plate, now covered with ten flies. "I got you something."

Dimitri's eye, dark and stormy, persisted to look at Felix without seeing him. "Glenn, I swear - "

"I know, I know, but you can't do anything unless you fill up. Now, come on. It's time to eat."

* * *

His father had been ecstatic to see Dimitri. Of course, he had expressed it in his own subdued and controlled way. 

"Wherever you go, your highness, I will follow," his father said, bowing.

Felix stared blankly ahead.

* * *

  
The other day, Felix had killed Ferdinand. 

He hadn't been able to keep down his meals after that. 

For the first time ever, he was feeling nervous about the next battle. He dreaded the day when he would have to encounter Caspar, Petra, and Raphael. 

* * *

"I used to think that we were very similar," Byleth said.

"Oh?"

The man smiled sadly at him. "But I can see that we're fundamentally different."

That much was obvious. Byleth never was one to run away from his problems. Felix had always wanted to from the very beginning. 

* * *

Dedue had turned out to be alive this whole time.

Felix hadn't realized that the Duscuran had been missing until now. 

Dimitri had appeared livelier now that his babysitter was here to take care of him. 

Felix had gladly relinquished his feeding duties to Dedue and had stayed away from the reeking cathedral. 

* * *

The novelty of war had faded a long time ago. It was just routine now: Eat food, attend meetings, go train. If he wasn't doing the last two, he would be out on the battlefield, risking his neck so that Dimitri could inch his way closer to getting Edelgard's head.

Felix was also killing his former sparring partners, so the phrase "friends would come and friends would go" was now being taken literally. And then it would all be rinse and repeat. Nothing out of the ordinary. 

Every day, Felix would think, "Goddess, just strike me dead. I'm done." And every day, Felix would think, "I don't want to do this anymore."

Everything just seemed so pointless. What was he even fighting for? Faerghus? Dimitri? Both were shit. Felix envied Ashe and Ingrid who would run on the thoughts of ideals and principles and loyalty and dreams. If he had any one of those, he probably would stop questioning his reasons for being here and fighting a pointless war. 

Sure, they yielded more wins than losses, but so what? If they win this war, then Dimitri would be hailed as the new ruler, and Felix didn't want to live in a Fodlan governed by a raving lunatic. Who knew what he would do? Make the date of Edelgard's beheading be a holiday, most likely. 

"Are you alright?" Dedue asked. They had finished clearing the area and were currently resting. Or more like: Felix was resting whereas Dedue was keeping guard. The ever-vigilant Duscuran didn't even reprimand him for sitting on the ground, thank the Goddess. 

"No," Felix responded flatly. 

There was a pause. "Is there anything that I can do you for?"

"No." He haphazardly wiped the blood clean off of his sword with a piece of fabric that he had snagged off of an enemy soldier. Very poor conduct for a swordsman, yet he didn't care. He didn't care about anything right now. "I'm just thinking about my future, and thinking about my future always depresses me."

"I see," Dedue said, which was a bald-faced lie. The way the man stared at him made it clear that he really wanted to ask why, but Dedue was too polite to press. That was what Felix liked about him; he minded his own business, unlike certain people...

A comfortable silence followed. Felix was content in smearing the remnants of the blood on the grass than engaging in conversation, and he was too exhausted to care about what Dedue thought about his poor treatment to his sword. The old thing was in due for a replacement, anyway. 

"If you don't mind me asking, why does that depress you?"

Never mind. Dedue was as nosy as everybody. Oh, the folly of humanity. 

Felix sighed, sheathing his sword. "There is a number of reasons." But which one could he say without offending Dedue? Naturally, saying anything negatory about Dimitri was a big no-no in Dedue's book. "One is inheriting House Fraldarius."

"Would that not be a good thing?"

"Not for me." Felix looked up at the sky, noticing clouds floating by from the horizon. "I hate bearing that kind of responsibility."

"Oh." Silence. "Is there anyone else who can take the position for you?"

"My cousin." Felix didn't know if she would want to be the Grand Duchess Fraldarius, though. She seemed happy where she was. 

"Would there be any trouble passing the title to your cousin, then?"

"My father would be upset, so there's that." Then, with a dry tone, Felix added, "As long as the old man's around, I chained to my duties."

Felix might not be looking at Dedue, but he could hear him frowning. "I wasn't aware that you saw your position as a burden."

"Do you think I'm spoiled?"

"No," Dedue said without hesitation. "Position doesn't always mean a pampered upbringing."

"Foolish, then, for wanting to throw everything away."

"I think that his highness would be upset if you were to go," Dedue replied slowly.

Felix quirked a brow. "Who said that I'd be going anywhere?"

Dedue didn't answer, and the discussion ended like that. 

For a land that had been ravaged by chaos only a scant ten minutes ago, it was swept by a lulling quiet. The peculiar peace that befell Gronder Field was almost foreboding, perhaps already being trodden by the ghosts of every slain man and woman. Blood and bodies carpeted the ground, so the morbid thought was fitting. 

Nevertheless, there was peace, a haunting one withstanding. Another battle had been finished. The next thing to do was to eat food, attend meetings, and go train. 

Felix straightened when he heard a cry from the distance. "Do you hear something?"

Dedue shifted his stance. "It's Annette."

Indeed, it was Annette. The woman's small and lithe figure sprinted towards them, somehow not once tripping herself during the journey. Felix and Dedue met her halfway by jogging and then quickened their pace when they noticed the disconcerted expression on her face. 

"Felix!" Annette cried. "Felix, it's terrible!"

Why was she just calling out his name? Did Felix do something wrong? He frowned, catching her when she finally did stumble. The woman grasped onto his arms and peered up at him with enormous watery eyes. 

"Your father," she said with a hitched breath, "died protecting his highness."

"What?" Felix whispered. 

"Oh, Felix. I'm so sorry," she sobbed, wounding her arms around his torso and holding him tightly. Felix comprehended that Annette was close, that Dedue was there, but his mind refused to register it. All he could think about was what Annette had said.

His father was dead?

A numbness engulfed him, rendering him motionless and detached. Annette continued to weep and Dedue continued to stand next to him, just as the clouds continued to roll across the sunset sky and the corpses continued to lie rotting on the ground. But Felix remained, going nowhere. 

There was something funny about this, Felix thought hazily. All this time, he had been hanging on a string that tethered him to the Fraldarius estate, the Fraldarius name. He had resigned himself to the fate that he had been born in and raised to be because he was a Fraldarius. And yet the one man who was supposed to plant his permanence there...had died. 

Felix had dreamed of the day when that string would one day be cut - that he wouldn't be bound by duties or obligations. He wouldn't be held to an impossible standard in his dreams, that he wouldn't have to see to a future where failures would chase after his heel. Because he wasn't Glenn. 

But he hadn't expected that string to be cut like this. 

Felix shoved Annette away, leaned to the right, and puked. 

* * *

At his father's burial, when he was alone, Felix quoted his father, saying, "He died like a true knight." He then laughed at the irony. 


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here I thought I could finish with three chapters. But, no, Felix is so much of a hot mess that he demands four.

Felix hadn't cried at Glenn's funeral. He hadn't cried at his father's funeral either. Ingrid, who thought that he was putting up a tough front, wrapped her arms around him and told him that he could let it all out. Felix, dry-eyed and perturbed, gently pushed her away and said, "I'm good."

Annette, who had switched her tune since his father's death, bounced over to him and offered to sing him a song. Felix couldn't turn down a golden opportunity like this, so he agreed to listen to her. When she finished, Annette next offered to hug him. Felix, who was still perturbed by Ingrid's physical display of affection, said, "No way." 

Ashe, who Felix hadn't talked to much since his arrival at Garreg Mach, slipped back to his side and would prattle on and on like how he had five years ago. Ashe, now Felix's height (wow, that was kind of annoying to know), then looked at him in the eye and told him to talk about his feelings. Felix, increasingly annoyed by Ashe's growth spurt when he himself hadn't grown at all, said, "I'm feeling pretty hungry."

Dedue, who obviously knew that Felix had used that hungry comment as an excuse, nonetheless aided Ashe in the kitchen to whip up a meal for Felix. The two prepared a Duscuran dish, which Felix immediately liked because of its savory, spicy flavor. Dedue then told Felix to talk to Dimitri, and Felix responded with, "I'm not going to the cathedral. I just ate."

Mercedes, who happened to be passing by, informed Felix that the cathedral had been cleaned so well that it smelled like fresh flowers. Felix, who knew that Mercedes went to the cathedral occasionally to pray, said, "You're so desensitized to the smell that you probably can't tell the difference."

Dedue was offended on behalf of Dimitri even though everyone knew that Dimitri had been responsible for stinking up the place, so he herded Felix to the cathedral. Ashe and Mercedes decided to tag along. 

"Okay," said Felix as he stood in the middle of the sparkling cathedral, "I admit, it does smell like flowers."

Mercedes beamed. "I told you!"

"It's thanks to the volunteers who came after hearing how the Church was being restored," Ashe piped up. 

"I can actually breathe without inhaling a fly," Felix marveled. 

Dedue frowned. "You're being unnecessarily rude regarding his highness."

"But you've never stepped foot in here before its reconstruction. I saw you draw him out whenever he had to eat."

"That is not true. I did enter here once; it is why I used to draw him out to eat." Was that Dedue's indirect way of admitting that Dimitri did foul the sanctity of holiness with his shit? Before Felix could linger on that thought, Dedue asked, "How is it that you didn't do the same?"

"He thought that I was my brother's ghost every time he saw me," Felix said, idly scratching his cheek. "He kept begging me to leave him alone and promising me that he'll kill the Emperor. There wasn't much that I could do other than tell him that I'd leave him alone if he ate whatever I got him. I don't know if he really believed that he ate real or hallucinatory food, but that was how I managed to get him to eat."

"Oh..." A moment of awkwardness passed over them, and Felix belatedly discerned that it was because of him. Before he could apologize for his lack of tact, Dedue carried on, saying, "My apologies. I didn't intend to be insensitive."

Felix blinked. "You are?"

"Apologetic or insensitive?"

Apologetic, of course. Dedue could never be insensitive. Dedue being insensitive was paramount to Annette being a terrible singer. Felix didn't voice his thoughts aloud, though; for some reason, he felt disinclined to answer the other man, so he just stared up at him. Dedue stared back. 

"So, uh, what was that about being opposed to entering the cathedral?" Ashe said, breaking the quiet. 

Felix pulled away to look at him. "Huh?"

"You said that when Dedue said you should speak to his highness."

"Dimitri hangs around here the majority of the time." He shrugged. "And I didn't know that the cathedral was cleaned, so..."

Ashe and Mercedes traded looks. "You haven't noticed?" Mercedes asked. 

"Notice what?"

"Dimitri doesn't stay here anymore. Not like before."

Huh. "Then did he find somewhere else to stay?"

"He..." Mercedes trailed off as her eyes grew wide, appearing as though some sort of understanding had dawned on her. Felix didn't see what she had just realized, but he figured that it had to do with Dimitri. Her lips were pursed into a frown and a wrinkle formed between her brows, now fixing Felix a look of pity. "I believe that Dedue is correct. You must speak with Dimitri. You haven't been since Dedue's return, have you?"

"There wasn't a reason to chat."

"There is now." Nodding to herself resolutely, she then turned to the other two. "Do you know about his highness's whereabouts?"

"I do believe that he's in the stables. He said that he wanted to feed his mare," Ashe said.

* * *

Felix wasn't sure if he even wanted to talk to Dimitri. Yet, lo and behold, here he was. 

Dimitri, his gaze void of storms and clear like a cloudless sky, stared at Felix in horror as he froze midway from feeding a horse an apple. The horse craned its neck and snagged the apple, crunching on it loudly. The crunching filled the stables as Dimitri continued to stare while Felix stared back. 

When the crunching punctuated with a merry neigh, Felix said, "We need to talk." Apparently.

Dimitri ducked his head. "O-of course," he conceded, but he didn't say anything more than that. 

The silence stretched on. Felix shifted his weight from one foot to the other, uncertain if he should be the first to broach the topic of...their falling out. Where Mercedes and Dedue had insisted that he should repair his relationship with the prince, Felix hadn't been aware that there was a relationship to repair - well, more specifically, that there was a broken relationship, to begin with. 

Now that Dimitri had snapped out of his bloodlust haze (for now), were they hoping that he and the prince would go back to how they had been five years ago? Granted, their academy days had been easier, yet Felix didn't know what he could do to rekindle that specific connection. The one where Dimitri would smile brightly at him for no reason, blather to him without stopping, break his lock and sneak into his room in the middle of the night...

If anything, Felix wasn't doing anything different; his personality was stagnant. Dimitri was the one who kept flip-flopping his character. He would be princely in one moment, beastly on another, and then avoidant as though he was a shy, pining maiden. The comparison didn't fly over Felix's head as he knew that the person who Dimitri was "pining" after in this scenario was Felix; he was the only one who the prince was skirting away, after all. 

Suddenly, Dimitri dropped to his knees, prostrating himself before Felix. 

"What the hell?" blurted Felix, stepping back in shock. 

"I - I have wronged everyone. I have been unforgivably selfish with my demands in my quest for vengeance, and I see that now," Dimitri said, voice thick with emotion. "But, most of all, I have wronged _you_. My selfishness has stolen your father from you, and, for that, I deeply apologize. I know that my words cannot bring back Rodrigue nor amend my sins, and I certainly cannot expect you to forgive me, but - "

At this point, goosebumps had already sprouted down the length of his arms. Felix's shoulders had risen to his ears, his body tense with discomfort. Never had he imagined anyone bowing oneself before him in such a manner, especially his royal highness. And yet, seeing this unfolding before him, Felix decided that he very much hated the sight. And the lamentations. 

Compelled to cut Dimitri off, Felix said, "Okay, I forgive you."

Dimitri's breath hitched. Tentatively, he lifted his face, his lone eye swimming with unshed tears. "Felix, you needn't - "

"Stop," Felix said firmly. "My father's death isn't your doing. I've heard it all from Byleth. That there was a spy among us and how my father took the hit to save you. So, uh..." Crap. Felix sucked so bad at this. What else could he say to reassure Dimitri? "Don't waste your life anymore. My father died because he wanted you to live." He inwardly cringed. Ugh. Dimitri must have heard those exact words a million times already. Why was Felix so unoriginal?

Seeing how Dimitri had yet to pick himself up from the ground, Felix continued. "I'd want you to live on as well," he tacked on because that sounded...friendly. Friends would want other friends to survive any ordeal, right? "So keep your head high and do your best. Not just for Faerghus but also for yourself."

An actual freaking tear slid down Dimitri's cheek, thoroughly furthering Felix's discomfort. Felix willed himself not to show it. "Felix," the prince rasped. 

If Dimitri was getting emotional by Felix's words, then Felix must have said something right for once. Or perhaps he had said something so offensive that Dimitri had to cry about it. The latter seemed likely given his track record. 

Felix couldn't tell when Dimitri then begged to know, "How can you be so forgiving? After all the atrocities that I have committed... After I led your father to his demise! How can you stand there and say that you want me to live?" Dimitri bared his teeth as he clenched his jaw, poorly biting back a sob. Two more tears rolled. "You should hate me!"

Felix probably should. He knew what Dimitri was capable of since they had been squires, and he had witnessed the repercussions of allowing the monster to run rampant. But Felix had also just seen that monster reveal himself at his most vulnerable - here and right now. Felix wasn't in the habit of acquainting himself with beasts, but he knew that a beast pretending was more terrifying than a beast out in the open. 

And furthermore... "Hating you wouldn't do anything," Felix said. "It won't make me feel better." More like: hating him would be too tiring to maintain. "And, yes, you've done terrible stuff, but all the more for you to make amends." Did that sound right? He wasn't sure what else to say, so he relayed a mangled line from one of Ashe's books: "Your hands have done enough murdering. From this day forth, use them to protect others. Serve a better future than throwing your life away for the dead. You owe it to your people that much."

Wow. Not half-bad. Before Felix could congratulate himself for pulling a decent delivery out of his ass, Dimitri gave a warbled, "Felix..."

"I'll be trusting you to do the right thing from now on. Prove yourself that you're going to be a worthwhile king." 

Wait. By saying that, did Felix contradict his forgiveness?

Dimitri didn't think so, evidently. "I will. I swear it," the prince croaked, blinking away his tears.

Oh, thank the Goddess. "Good. You're going to be a king in the future, just so you know, and a king should not lower himself before others," Felix said. "Seriously, stand up. The ground probably has remnants of horse manure here." Not that hygiene had ever been at the forefront of Dimitri's mind.

Dimitri sniffled and smiled - dazzlingly, at that. "Y-you're right, my friend." He pulled himself up to his hulking height, shuffling forward in the process. They were a yard away, and yet Felix had to tilt his head back to keep his eyes trained on Dimitri's face. "I cannot express how thankful I am for your kindness. I am hardly deserving of it, and yet you always have been so gracious towards me. How can I ever repay you?"

"Is this you owing me another favor? You owe me three favors, in that case."

Laughter bubbled out of Dimitri, and the man had never looked freer, happier, than now. He wiped away the tear streaks and beamed at him. "I will do you a million favors with no return expected if that is what you wish," he promised. "I know that I owe you that and so much more."

A tingling sensation buzzed beneath his skin. Felix sucked in his lips and nodded. "I'll hold you to it."

And the two men stood there, maintaining their prolonged eye contact. Felix was beginning to feel the unsettling weirdness that had to do with two men...just standing there...gazing deeply into one another's eyes. Very weird. As for Dimitri, the prince was peering down at him tenderly; he looked as though he was witnessing a cat birthing a litter of kittens or whatever. 

Not one to ruin a moment if he could help it (because the Goddess knew just how many he had screwed up those), Felix remained standing in place, voluntarily subjecting himself to more of Dimitri's adoration. 

* * *

After their talk in the stables, Dimitri reverted back to his seventeen-year-old self: Cheery and chatty. Well, incredibly subdued cheeriness and fumbling chattiness, but nevertheless cheery and chatty. There was also a new addition thrown into the mix: Touchy. Dimitri had been physically affectionate with Felix before, but the man was touchier as of late. 

Sometimes, Dimitri would drape his arms around his shoulders. Sometimes, Dimitri would circle his fingers on his wrist. Sometimes, Dimitri would press his hand on the small of his back. There had been one time when Dimitri had tucked his hair behind his ear. These instances would stretch on if they were alone, in particular.

Regardless, whether they be alone or not, these instances didn't go unnoticed by those with keen eyes. Sylvain, of course, noticed.

"I don't want to see any of my friends get hurt," Sylvain said after confronting Felix about Dimitri. The older man gave him a sad smile. "What do you want to do about it, buddy?"

Initially, Felix had chalked up Dimitri's affections to be the result of touch deprivation during his five-year-long isolation. Him regaining any semblance of sanity while pulling away from his lunacy would have supported that notion, but then Dimitri wouldn't have singled out Felix of all people. 

Sure, the prince would give the occasional friendly shoulder clap, especially with Dedue and Sylvain. He would reciprocate Annette and Mercedes's hugs, would shake hands with Byleth and Ashe, and would brush arms with Ingrid. But Dimitri wouldn't do any of the things he had done with Felix with them. 

Felix knew that he was dense. Not willfully - of course not. But he recognized and acknowledged that he was a blockhead, and, as a blockhead, it unnerved him when he was able to distinguish that Dimitri's touchiness was bordering on romantic than platonic. A pair of manly pals wouldn't tuck each other's hair in that way. That just wasn't, well, manly. On Felix's part. A man could do that to a woman, but not to another man.

"I don't like it," Felix said honestly, "but I don't want to talk to him about it in person."

Sylvain sighed. "You have to do something, Felix. You're the object of his affections."

The hair on the back of his neck rose. "Object of affections," Felix mouthed the words to himself, as though they could help bring him back to the real world. Alas, no, he was still in this strange dimension, potentially concocted by his comatose mind, where the boar prince of Faerghus happened to have romantic inclinations towards him. He then said aloud, "He can't make heirs with me. I'll tell him to get his priorities in order."

"Whoa, there." Sylvain pinned him on the spot by planting his hands on Felix's shoulders. "What happened to not wanting to talk to him?"

"You said that I have to do something."

"Okay, no, bad idea. As much as I appreciate your use of straightforward methods - " Sylvain didn't sound like he did " - this is something that you gotta do this with finesse."

Felix made a face. "Dimitri isn't the kind of person who requires _finesse._ "

The older man gave a long-suffering sigh. "Look, buddy, I know that this is new territory for you, but you have to handle rejection delicately. So that's where you're wrong about his highness; the big guy definitely needs to be treated with care because he's delicate himself."

"We saw him tear apart enemy soldiers with his hands two weeks ago," Felix pointed out. 

"Gah, Felix - I mean emotionally delicate!" Oh, that made sense. "Just think about it: Right after regaining his senses and grieving over everything that he's done, can you imagine how sensitive Dimitri may be? He may seem fine at the moment, but he's not at a state where he's stable. A rejection could just be downright demoralizing for the guy."

Demoralizing. A demoralized Dimitri. That wasn't something that they could afford given the current situation they were in. A depressed leader couldn't lead, and the army had barely scraped by back when Dimitri had been deranged. "Fair," Felix conceded. "Then how about I pull a Sylvain and get Dimitri to hate me?"

"First of all, don't refer sabotaging a friendship as 'pulling a Sylvain,'" Sylvain said, shaking Felix a bit. "Secondly, why would you go that far as to make his highness hate you? Do you want him to hate you?"

 _"I don't care"_ was the first thing that popped in his mind. _"It's not like I care about a beast"_ was the second thing that popped in his mind. Based on a hunch, Felix quickly determined that either of those responses wouldn't be appropriate to say. However, with no other responses to offer, he just shrugged. 

Sylvain stared at him in disbelief. "Felix, be honest with me. Do dislike Dimitri liking you romantically?"

Felix stared back at him. "Wasn't it obvious?"

"Okay, fair. _Why_ do you dislike it?"

"Giant buff blonds aren't to my liking," he answered blandly.

Sylvain acted as though he hadn't been expecting that. His eyes widened in genuine surprise. "What? Seriously?"

"What? Did you think that I'd be attracted to him?" Well, he didn't. Failure that he was, Felix still had standards; he preferred people of civility, not people who would crap in conspicuous corners of a cathedral. Or people who had subsisted on rats and weeds for five years. Or people who would converse with air. So, yeah, basically, Dimitri was far from his type. That and he didn't like giant buff blonds. 

"I honestly didn't think that you had a type."

"Well, I do."

Intrigued, he asked, "What's your type, then?"

Civilized people, for Goddess's sake. "Girls. Small. Petite. Dark hair," he threw out, thinking of descriptors that were opposite to Dimitri's features. 

"So, what, you want a girl version of you?"

What? "Someone pretty."

"Still you, buddy."

Felix felt a little affronted by that. "I'd think I'm more handsome than pretty."

"Hey, there's nothing wrong with being a pretty man! I'm told that I'm pretty all the time."

"I think this conversation derailed."

"Right, right. Okay, obviously, we can't have you do your own thing without getting Dimitri hurt."

"Then what do you suggest that I do?"

* * *

Felix ought to know better when asking Sylvain for help, and yet he never learned. 

Of course, Sylvain's go-to solution would be picking up girls. This time, however, Sylvain had already picked up a girl for Felix to go out with. A girl who matched Felix's exact description of his supposedly ideal type: small, petite, dark hair, pretty. She also looked vaguely familiar. 

"It's nice to see you again," she said. _Again?_

"Likewise," Felix replied, scrupulously studying her face to see if he could place a name. She looked like a Madilyn.

"You probably don't remember me, but I'm Madison," she said. "We once went on a double date with our friends five years ago."

He slowly nodded, and then his nods quickened when it was all coming back to him. "You're the girl who made that pun."

She gave a small smile. "Um, no, you were the one who did."

"I did?" 

"Well, unintentionally. I just pointed out that you did."

"Ah." That made sense. Felix couldn't picture himself deliberately cracking a joke. 

"Shall we go?" Madison prompted, gesturing the way.

"Sure."

As they walked casually down the street, bypassing vendors and constructions, Felix continued to study Madison from the corner of his eye. As shoddy as his memory was, he did remember how their date went: badly. Badly because they had nothing to talk about, which had created a cripplingly awkward tension between them.

Yet there was none of that awkwardness now. Madison seemed at ease with the silence, not once attempting to initiate a conversation. As nice as that was, Felix couldn't help but be curious. 

"You're different from last time," he commented.

"It's been five years. Of course I'm different," Madison replied.

"True."

"Although, I can't say that you've changed either. You yourself don't seem different."

"That is also true." Whatever he had said somehow managed to evoke a giggle. Astounded, Felix turned his head to fully look at her. "What's so funny?"

"Oh, it's nothing," she dismissed, giving him a smile. "It's just... You're kind of weird, you know?"

Not knowing how to respond to that, Felix merely blinked. 

"I mean, for a noble. All the nobles that I've seen always carried themselves with pomp and purpose, but you don't do that. You're, well, normal."

"Normal?" Felix reiterated, baffled. 

"Yes, normal. There's nothing wrong with being normal."

"No, I know that. It's just..." he trailed off, uncertain how to put it into words. There was nothing wrong with being normal. In fact, there was nothing wrong with being average or unassuming or plain. But to be considered as normal felt like forcing a mismatched puzzle piece to fit. He averted his gaze. "I think...I'd like to be that."

"Be what?"

"Normal."

"But you are." A pause. "You don't think you are?"

Not among his peers as far as he was concerned. "I've been told I'm boring," he decided to say, not wanting to delve too deeply in whatever he was feeling. "If I was normal, our last date might have been more fun."

"There's nothing wrong with being boring either," Madison insisted. "Better than being snobby or intimidating like how the rest of the nobility are."

"I don't know if that's true, but I don't want to break the trend of admitting that you're right."

Madison laughed again, and a pleasing warmth formed within his chest. It was soothing and addicting, almost as though there was something smoothing the jagged edges of his soul. When he looked back at Madison, he found her looking back at him. Her eyes were bright as they crinkled from her smile. She was beautiful. 

His lips quirked upwards. For the first time in a long time, he felt...happy. 

* * *

"Sylvain told me that you went on a date."

Dimitri stood outside his door, impassiveness crafted on his face. Felix paused and wondered why he felt like he had been caught red-handed when he hadn't done anything wrong. Felix looked up at him and started to weigh his options. 

Finally, he settled with: "Am I not allowed to?"

Dimitri narrowed his eye. "It is hardly any of my business to dictate what you can or cannot do," he said slowly, "but the circumstances will not permit us the liberty to fool around."

What the hell was that supposed to mean? Given the circumstances, shouldn't it be expected for soldiers to go around cavorting with any willing men and women? They were at war; tomorrow just might be their last, so why not live for today? 

Besides, Sylvain was often seen leaving and entering the monastery at odd hours, and yet he didn't get berated (much). Felix had gone on one date, and yet Dimitri was confronting him as though he had prostituted himself to every knight in his battalion. 

Wow, that was weird to think about. His date had been very chaste; Felix and Madison hadn't even hugged one another, much less exchanged kisses. But did Dimitri know that? The prince probably thought that Sylvain was being a bad influence, which made Felix open to sleep around. 

"All we did was walk around," Felix clarified. "Got a leg workout."

"Nevertheless," Dimitri retaliated.

Okay, it was time to give up. Felix was tired and didn't want to prolong this any more than necessary. "You're the boss," Felix conceded. "No more romance until the end of the war."

Dimitri stared at him before stiffly nodding. "We have our priorities to attend to."

Priorities. Said the future king who was fixated on another man instead of properly courting a woman. Felix nearly snorted at that. "Certainly."

"Whatever is so amusing?"

Crap. Felix dropped his smile. "Nothing."

Dimitri frowned. "Do you find what I say to be trifling?"

"What? No, of course not."

"Then why laugh?"

Felix hadn't been laughing. Dimitri was being dramatic. "I wasn't laughing at you," he lied. "I just...remembered a joke that my date told me."

Dimitri gave him an unimpressed stare. "And what is it?"

"Huh?"

"The joke."

Felix waffled for a moment because, damn, how could he just think up a joke on the spot? Perhaps he should just fess up; obviously, Dimitri knew that he was lying, and Felix knew that he wasn't making his case any better just by standing here staring at him. 

Suddenly, a memory surfaced in his mind. "We were talking, trying to get to know one another. To break the formalities, I told her - I mean, she told me to 'chill out.' She was basically making a pun about me being from Faerghus," Felix said.

"You...were laughing at a pun?" the prince said. "You like puns, Felix?" 

"Ugh, no, I don't." 

Dimitri's incredulity became more pronounced. "You don't?"

"Uh, how she said it was funny. I don't like puns in general." Goddess, if Dimitri were to let it be known that Felix delighted in hearing puns, then Alois just might accost him with his quips. By then, Felix just might take over the Goddess's job by finishing himself off. 

"I see." Dimitri didn't look like he did. He just looked upset. 

Seeing an opening, Felix said, "If that's all, I like to go to bed now."

"Ah, yes. I apologize for taking up your time." The prince stepped aside, allowing Felix to move to his door. "Have a good night."

"Good night."

The next day, Dimitri refrained from touching Felix. He still greeted him with his usual effusiveness, but the energy was notably muted. Dedue, who was standing next to Dimitri, shot Felix a questioning glance, to which Felix responded with a shrug. 

The day after that, Dimitri continued to keep his hands to himself. Mission accomplished. 

* * *

Felix didn't see Madison ever again after that. But that was fine; it was fun while it lasted. Besides, a cool woman like her deserved better than a boring guy like him. 

* * *

There were nights when Felix would get nightmares. Ferdinand, in particular, would haunt him in his sleep. There were nights when the dreams would be so jarring that Felix would remain petrified beneath his covers, staring at the dark void of his room until dawn's rays would filter through his window. 

He sometimes thought about Caspar, Petra, and Raphael, but not as often as before. He tried not to. He had a good idea of what had happened when the Kingdom, Empire, and Leicester Alliance had all fought in Gronder Field. Where one of them had emerged as the victor, that could mean that the other two had to back down due to great losses. Felix didn't want to think what those losses could be. 

* * *

"How are you doing?" Byleth asked him over tea.

"Fine," Felix replied.

"How are you coping after your father's death?"

"Pretty alright."

"Are you really?" Byleth peered at him intently. His normally apathetic expression changed into something meaningful. Even without the mercenary's inscrutable mask, Felix couldn't fathom what the other man was thinking. What Felix could understand, though, was that Byleth was truly invested in each of his comrades.

For whatever inexplicable reason that might be - attachment to his former students, wariness for his allies' psyche - Byleth went out of his way to talk to them, including Felix who had never been able to give him a straight answer.

It wasn't that Felix didn't want to talk to him; it was that he struggled with how to respond. Felix wasn't opposed to vomiting out his life's tragedies and hardships to Byleth, yet he knew better than to do so. 

The truth was that no one liked to hear about all that stuff. Well, that was obvious; rather, no one actually _cared_ to be the patient ear of a person in despair. People would say that they were always there for you to put on a facade of kindness; people didn't really care about you. Everything was done with the purpose of self-gratification.

That was partially why Mercedes weirded him out. Where Sylvain and Ingrid were open about their likes and dislikes, Mercedes was an impenetrable wall of passivity. What lurked behind that demure disposition and sweet smile? Felix didn't know and was scared to find out.

Byleth, though? Byleth was at least more forthcoming with his approach. He put on a show to appear that he genuinely wanted to see everyone achieve their dreams and live happily ever after. That was why everyone flocked to him, ready to throw their life story at him just to be heard.

But Felix didn't need to be heard. He had years of practice in being ignored, unheard of, scorned. He didn't need to use Byleth as an outlet for his own satisfaction. That would be...discourteous. Felix was being respectful by withholding his problems. No need to pile more onto the man who went around acting as everyone's counselor.

Felix took a sip of his tea - Almyran pine; how the hell did Byleth get it right every time? - and said, "Not at all."

"I didn't expect you to say that. Will you tell me why?"

"Not at all."

* * *

The nightmares became worse. There were nights where Felix would simply lie on his back, staring blankly at the ceiling. 

* * *

As crude as it was to say this, Felix's father's death had reaped some good. Dimitri had changed routes, having the army march for Fhirdiad instead of Enbarr. Thank the Goddess for that. 

So, up north they went. There, they encountered Cornelia's forces. They fought and fought until they freed the capital from the Dukedom. The Kingdom emerged as victorious and the people welcomed Dimitri as their king. 

At least, that was what Felix figured was happening. The roaring cheers swept across the city grounds to where Felix was, which happened to be a smelly alley with a cooling carcass lying across from him. 

Felix had gotten sloppy from exhaustion, hence why a foot soldier had been able to take a stab at his gut. He had quickly finished the fight, but he hadn't departed from this spot when the pain debilitated his movements. Now, Felix was slumped over, attempting to staunch the blood from spilling out. 

This is what dying feels like, he thought, and it sucks. He had always imagined that he would go down in an epic way, yet, here he was, minutes away from death's doorstep in a smelly alley, done in by a foot soldier. Killed by a foot soldier and dying in a smelly alley. Hell. If Felix hadn't been in so much pain, he would have laughed at the universe's sense of humor.

His father had died like a true knight, sacrificing himself for the king. Felix, who had never cared about knighthood and chivalry, was about to die like an idiot who had gotten himself stabbed by a foot soldier. In a smelly alley.

This alley really stank bad. 

Well, he thought, at least I'm going to die finally. 

All those years waking up on his bed, praying to the Goddess to end his miserable life, had paid off. Not in a way that he would have liked, but, hey, beggars couldn't be choosers. And now that he was going to leave this world without having to resort to suicide, he would ascend to the Goddess's gates and not burn in the eternal flames of damnation where Nemesis rested. 

(That was how this worked, right? Felix wasn't sure. He usually fell asleep during sermons.)

Anyway, Felix was going to die. 

He ought to feel something like terror or relief, but he mainly felt bone-deep tired and cold. Light-headed. The pain was still there, but it had subsided enough for him to ignore it. He was just really, really tired. 

So tired that Felix didn't think about anything else when his eyes fluttered closed and his consciousness faded away. 


	4. Chapter 4

When Felix had been young, he had felt too much. Whenever he had been happy, he had been ecstatic. Whenever he had been sad, he had been in despair. His emotions had taken an inkling and had amplified his state of being. That had been why everyone had called him a crybaby. 

To feel the way he had - too intensely, too much - had been exhausting. Yet his pride and stubbornness had kept him from buckling down, from giving in and relenting to what the world had wanted him to do and be. 

But each day, his pride and stubbornness would be chipped away. Felix had been so tired of being the way that he had been, and he had long desired to stop caring anymore. 

What happened after Glenn's death had been a natural progression: Felix's ire had been a conflagration - all-consuming and lashing and dangerous. It had burned for days until it had receded to a kindling flame - still hot to the touch yet manageable. Then when the Western Rebellion had been quelled, the fire had been stomped out mercilessly.

There had been nothing left but charred remains. Felix could feel nothing but hollow resentment, but that too had eventually drifted away as did the smoke in the wind. 

When Felix had been older, he hadn't felt much at all. Whenever he had been happy, he had felt content. Whenever he had been sad, he had felt disappointed. Yet these emotions had seldom lingered, quickly engulfed by this gaping hole of emptiness within him. 

He could never stay happy; he could never stay sad. He could never maintain his anger no matter how cruel the world would be. And, so, Felix coasted through one day to the next, just simply existing. 

* * *

Ugh, Felix thought when he woke up. He blearily stared at the ceiling above him. After roving his eyes across the room, he noticed that he was in an infirmary; not the one in the monastery but...Castle Blaiddyd? Ugh, he thought again when he realized that he hadn't died after all. He closed his eyes and fell asleep.

When he woke up again, he was greeted to a sight of Dimitri nodding off in the seat next to his bed. 

Felix closed his eyes and tried to simulate sleep. Like hell he was going to let the prince catch him conscious. 

When he woke up a third time, Sylvain's face was hovering above his. 

"Good morning, sleeping beauty," Sylvain sang. 

"Hn," Felix replied.

"So, how do you feel?"

Achy. Very achy. And also strangely tired for someone who must have slept for hours upon hours. How long had he slept, actually?

Felix opened his mouth to say something, but he was suddenly having coughing fits, which was a terrible thing to do in his state because now his stomach was blooming with immense pain. He moaned miserably.

Sylvain was quick to attend to him as he gingerly propped up Felix and held a glass to his lips. Felix hadn't realized how dry his throat and mouth were until now, eagerly drinking his fill until the glass was taken away from him. 

"You don't want to drink too fast or too much," Sylvain said. He set the glass away and lowered Felix back down. "You good?"

"Yeah," Felix croaked. "Thanks."

"Think nothing of it, bud. Gotta say, you gave us quite a scare, his majesty especially."

Felix looked at him, confused by what he had said, until it clicked. _His majesty_ \- that could only mean that Dimitri had ascended the throne; he had officially become the king of Faerghus. 

Well, he thought, good for him, I guess. Felix didn't know how the Kingdom was going to fare under a beast like Dimitri, but, hopefully, the man wouldn't run the place down to the ground when taking bad advice from his retinue of ghosts. They had been the ones to push Dimitri into going on a beheading craze, after all. And for all Felix knew, they had been the ones to make him think that subsisting on rats and weed was a proper diet.

Felix felt a flick on his forehead. "Ow," he grunted. "What was that for?"

"For being a reckless idiot, idiot." Sylvain sighed and slumped into his seat. "You're one of our best fighters. You've taken down generals and captains and led your battalions to every victory. How can you be incapacitated by an infantryman?"

"Was tired," Felix said.

"Yeah, well, we all were." He rolled his eyes. "I'm just glad that you made it, Felix. I wouldn't want you to go breaking our promise." Promise? He didn't mean that dumb pinky-swear that they had made when they had been children, did he? About them dying together? "Anyway, just a head's up, Ingrid prepared a special lecture just for you."

Wonderful. "Shows that she cares, at least," Felix said wryly, which earned him a huffed laugh from Sylvain. 

"Masochist," he teased.

"Pervert," Felix retaliated.

"Hey, is that any way to speak to the person who hooked you up with that cutie?"

"You're still on about that? Give it a rest."

After conversing for a few more minutes, Sylvain decided to take his leave when Felix gave a jaw-breaking yawn. He was leaving not because Felix was tired, but because he had errands to run after popping in to check on Felix. 

"Please don't tell Ingrid that I'm awake," Felix requested. 

The older man beamed. "I'm going to tell her."

And Sylvain did. The bastard. 

Ingrid charged inside the infirmary like the irate woman that she was, full of red-hot indignation and icy intimidation. She let Felix have it, from grilling him on his lack of foresight to dwindling self-preservation skills. Needless to say, having Ingrid verbally tear him a new one was a harrowing experience that Felix endeavored to never repeat.

When Ingrid had finished saying her piece, she draped herself over him, wrapping her arms around his neck, and said, "I'm glad that you're alive."

After hearing about how Glenn wouldn't do this, Glenn wouldn't do that - Glenn, Glenn, Glenn - Felix silently questioned that sentiment.

Next arrived Ashe, who excitedly recounted what had gone down in his part of the battle. The archer regaled about how gallant and fearless the knights had been, storming through the city and bringing down the enemy soldiers. The fight had been a long and tiresome one, yet one that Ashe would never forget. They had taken back their Kingdom! What a glorious time that had been! Surely something that wouldn't stay as a mere footnote in the history books!

Blah, blah, blah. Felix reflexively tuned Ashe out.

Annette and Mercedes had dropped by shortly. Annette, like Ingrid, nagged to him about being more careful, albeit her words were comparatively milder than Ingrid's. Mercedes smiled her usual smiles (how creepy) and decorated his room with a bountiful of flowers that she and Annette had gathered. How they had managed to get flowers in this weather, Felix didn't know. Magic? Probably. 

When lunchtime rolled by, Dedue entered with a bowl of porridge. Felix was dismayed because he wanted a proper meal, but Dedue explained that porridge was the only thing that his recovering body could accept without upchucking. And, so, under the Duscuran's watchful eye, Felix forced down the bland mushy crap. Felix couldn't believe that the man hadn't had the decency to at least flavor it. 

When the sun dipped below the horizon, Byleth visited. "I apologize for not seeing you sooner," the man said. "I was caught up with meetings."

"No problem," Felix assured. 

Byleth took a seat on the chair next to Felix's bedside. "I'd ask you how you are, but I'm fairly certain that everyone already asked you that."

Yeah, they had, and Felix had given them different answers each time just to mix things up. Annette hadn't been pleased when he had told her that he had been in excruciating pain while he had then told Mercedes than his condition had been doing splendidly. To Mercedes's credit, she had found it funny. 

Surprisingly, Dedue hadn't asked him, but that could be because the man had eyes and could see just how well Felix had been faring. That or he just hadn't cared. Who knew with that guy?

"I could also scold you for not being aware of your surroundings, but I heard Ingrid from the other side of the monastery," said Byleth. 

"She'd make an excellent training instructor. She can drill fear into the recruits into making them work harder."

"A bit unfortunate that she's planning on being a knight instead."

"Quite so."

"Speaking of plans, what are yours?"

"I can't believe you segued into that topic," Felix groused. "Then again, I'm the one who set it up."

"I would've asked you about it regardless."

Felix did not doubt that. Whenever they had tea together, Byleth would ask that question often. The first time Felix had been asked, he had easily answered that he would inherit his father's role as the Duke Fraldarius and advisor to the king. Byleth hadn't been appeased by that, hence him pressing to know what Felix _wanted_ to do.

Suffice to say, Felix hadn't been comfortable with that inquiry. He would usually give an evasive answer or respond with a simple "I don't know." Which the latter was indeed true - Felix did not know. 

There was that idea of him running away to be a mercenary, yet he didn't want to be asked how he was going about it and the steps that he would take to achieve his goal. Felix had no steps. He had no clue how to even be one. The only plan that he entertained often was a half-baked one. 

In any case, Felix was hardly a visionary that he could mold the future to how he wanted it to be. He was better off doing what he was told to do even if he didn't do a good job keeping up with the expectations. 

Instead of answering, Felix decided to throw the question back at the man. "How about you? What are your plans?"

"There's been talk about me becoming Rhea's successor as the Archbishop. I think I'll do that."

Felix did a double-take. "Do you know how to be one?"

"No."

"Then why...?"

"If I can help facilitate change and usher in peace, I'll strive to do that."

"Kind of weird to hear from a former mercenary."

The corners of Byleth's lips quirked upwards. "Hence why the 'former.'" Oh, well, fair point. "But it isn't just a matter of what should be done, but also what I want to do. Think about that, Felix. What do you want to do?"

I don't know, Felix thought. He didn't bother uttering his answer, not when he had reiterated it several times. But he had to admit, Byleth becoming the next Archbishop was certainly something to ponder about. Who could have seen that one coming?

* * *

When Felix woke up, the room had already been plunged into darkness. Yet the sliver of moonlight allowed him to see an outline of a figure standing above him. The sight had been alarming enough to cause him to inhale sharply. He then winced when his wound began to throb, clenching the covers. 

"Felix!" the figure exclaimed in a hushed whisper. "My - my apologies. I didn't mean to startle you."

Of course. It was Dimitri. Who else would be sneaking around in the middle of the night? Had Dimitri always been this creepy or was this the beastly part of him?

"What?" Felix asked. 

"Pardon?"

"What are you doing here?" he clarified. 

Dimitri didn't answer right away; he just stood there. And maybe stared, although Felix didn't know if that was possible when it was too dark to see much of anything. 

After a period of hearing nothing, Felix closed his eyes, figuring that Dimitri just came here to check on him but didn't know how to convey it. If Felix only wanted to watch someone sleep, then he too wouldn't know what to say. 

But before his consciousness could drift away, he felt the bed dip, a weight sitting by his side. Dimitri gingerly shuffled closer until he swung his legs over. He grabbed Felix's head - _what the hell_ \- and tucked it on the crook of his elbow. He then crowded Felix on top of the small mattress, lying supine with his back no doubt hanging precariously over the edge. 

Several things popped in Felix's mind, but the first one that emerged to the forefront was...

How this was rather presumptuous of Dimitri, him thinking that Felix would let him lie down next to him just because he had done so five years ago. 

But the man was a breathing furnace, which the heat was rather nice on a cold night like this one. Felix supposed that Dimitri could be presumptuous just for tonight. 

But Dimitri was a king, so was he already entitled to presumption? Was Felix even using that word correctly or was his groggy mind just throwing out words?

Goddess, Felix was tired.

Felix resolved to shelve that thought for the morning, opting for sleep instead. Unfortunately, he couldn't bring himself to sleep yet when Dimitri asked, "Sylvain told me that you have always known."

"Hm."

"About me."

Felix sighed and rubbed the space between his brows. "Are you going to make me parse through your cryptic words? If so, can we do it another time?"

Dimitri fell quiet, and then he said, "You always knew that I was...unwell. Since we entered the academy."

"Oh, that." He felt a small twinge of annoyance, especially when he remembered Mercedes thinking that he was the one closest to Dimitri because of what Sylvain had said. Sylvain had been telling people a lot of things, apparently, and Felix was starting to feel rankled by that. Was that a good thing or a bad thing? "I actually found out during the Western Rebellion."

Dimitri stiffened against Felix. "That long?" he murmured.

"I saw you - how you were acting when you killed all those men. You looked like you were having such a grand time that it was horrifying," Felix told him flippantly. He had years to process and accept reality, so he could afford to be flippant. 

Dimitri, on the other hand, sounded appalled. "I - did - did I truly look as such in your eyes...?"

"You don't remember? You had the biggest grin that I've ever seen, and you were laughing so joyously whenever you impaled the soldiers."

Through the plush barrier of the duvet and the fabric of their clothes, Felix could feel Dimitri's heartbeat thud heavily, quickly. Wanly curious, he canted his chin upwards; having adjusted to the darkness, he could see Dimitri's anguished expression. 

"Five years ago," Dimitri intoned, voice heavy with emotion, "you told me that you were not afraid of me. Was that a lie?" 

"No," Felix replied easily. "I wasn't back then either." The dissonance of Dimitri the friend to Dimitri the boar had been so jarring that Felix couldn't have felt fear, not when his distraught had engulfed him. Although, while Felix had recurring nightmares of monster slashing and laughing, that didn't detract the fact that he hadn't been afraid. "I was more so...betrayed, I think."

"Betrayed?"

"You weren't who I thought you were." Felix paused to yawn. "You - I thought of you as an imposter for a while. Literally. But then I thought of it more in a metaphorical sense. You're Dimitri, but you're not my Dimitri."

Dimitri pursed his lips, his lone eye shining with unshed tears and hurt. Felix instantly felt guilty. Ugh, why were they having a serious talk at shit o'clock? His tongue was looser now than it would have been tomorrow. 

"I mean, the Dimitri with the girly face and hair," Felix quickly amended with a fib. "You're just, well, not what I expected you to grow up being as. Uh, physically."

"Don't lie," Dimitri choked out. "Felix, please don't lie for my sake. You hadn't before, so why now?"

Felix groaned wearily. "I thought that you could handle it, but now you look like you're seconds away from crying." He looked heavenward, his head still nestled on Dimitri's arm. "Do we have to discuss this now? It's late."

"If not now, when?" Dimitri said plaintively. "I have a full schedule ahead of me now that I'm king, and..." He shifted and rested his other arm across Felix's chest, curling it to bring Felix closer. "And I'm frankly tired of being the one to chase after you."

 _Pardon_? "That's not true," Felix countered, frowning. "I'm the one who looked for you after my father's death." Dimitri flinched. "Let's not forget that I'm the one who kept you fed until Dedue's return."

Okay, on both accounts, that hadn't been so much as Felix's decision as it had been Mercedes's, but Felix had been the one to carry out the tasks. So...there. 

"Yes, you are right. My apologies. I did not mean to undermine your kindness," Dimitri said awkwardly. He waffled for a moment before admitting, "You're more open with your feelings like this. I apologize if I'm taking advantage, but I find that this is the only way..."

Oh, saints, the king did want his tongue loose. 

"Even at the cost of me rendering you to tears?" Felix inquired warily. 

The other man pressed his forehead into Felix's neck, brushing his cold nose along the length of his throat. Felix shivered. "Your words can be piercing in their frankness, but even so. Felix, we've known each other for years, yet I feel as though I scarcely know you."

Baffled, he blurted out, "Isn't that my line?"

"Felix - "

"Are you saying that I've been pretending?"

"You are," he insisted. "Or, rather, you're holding yourself back - "

"Aren't you the one who wears a mask, parading yourself as though you're a prince when you're nothing but a _pig_?" The words spilled out like a wheeze - like they had been waiting long to claw themselves out of his lungs and nothing could stop them from escaping. In hindsight, Felix knew better than to leave himself open despite what Dimitri wanted, that he ought to gather his wits before he could make an irreparable mistake. 

But he didn't. 

When Felix had been young...

When Felix had been young, he had felt too much. Whenever he had been happy, he had been ecstatic. Whenever he had been sad, he had been in despair. His emotions had taken an inkling and had amplified his state of being. That had been why everyone had called him a crybaby. 

However, he wasn't one to cry anymore; he _seethed_.

"I always thought of you as such - a boar. For years and years. You may resemble a man now, but you'll always be a boar," Felix hissed, almost hysterically. "And where you hid your true nature, you dare accuse me of hiding?"

"Th-that's not - that's not - " Dimitri babbled, his eye widening.

Felix swelled with buzzing energy, burning away his exhaustion. He didn't want to fade away to the background and let the world forget about him anymore. Being on the precipice of a maddening, searing spiral, he found himself wanting to crawl to the front lines and _fight_.

The swooping out-pour was no different than when he would brandish his sword, clashing metal against metal with an opponent. But instead of using a sword, Felix used what he could as a man lying prone with a fatal injury. 

He grabbed a fistful of Dimitri's hair, darkly relishing the whimper that the king emitted. "And then we find you in the monastery, desecrating a holy temple with your madness and bloodthirst," Felix rasped into his ear. "But did you think that I cared to see you in your natural state? No - I always _knew_ , Dimitri; that's the thing. I always knew what kind of animal you really are. You're the one who plays pretend."

"Felix," Dimitri begged, his hand spasming on Felix's shoulder. "Felix. Felix."

Felix tightened his grasp. "I watched you as well. Do you remember the times when I would stand by you as you conferred with your imaginary friends? The voices in your head that pose as your dead father, stepmother, and Glenn? Is my father among them now?"

What am I doing? Felix wondered distantly as his lips continued to form their next tirade. It was as though he had been split into two people who shared one body: a Felix who mercilessly outlined Dimitri's faults and failures, and another Felix who observed indifferently from behind. 

He had no idea that he was capable of saying such cruel things.

Perhaps he too was a monster. 

There was a bruising grip on his upper arm as Dimitri bucked against his thigh, panting wetly. The king slurred his mantra of "Felix. Felix. Felix," rubbing his tears on Felix's skin, suckling on his collarbones like he was a babe. There was a pulsating heat radiating off of the other man, a kind of desperation that was projected onto Felix that Felix couldn't register or accept. 

All Felix could do was spit vitriol while Dimitri clung onto him as if he was his only lifeline. 

And then it all came crashing down.

Felix's ire fizzled out, and his words tapered off halfway into his sentence. He had charged miles and miles, slaying his most detested foes in the shape of one man who wept wantonly into his semi-embrace, only to stop in the midst of battle. In that one - two - three minutes of intensity, Felix was left inexorably empty. Meanwhile, the newly crowned king of Faerghus was rutting his leg like a dog in heat.

As if the man couldn't sink any lower.

Felix suddenly felt like crying. 

When Dimitri came, he didn't let go. No matter the purple indentations that would undoubtedly form on Felix's skin. No matter the harsh yanks on his scalp. Even when Felix had called him a boar, Dimitri did not relent. "I love you," he heard Dimitri say. "I love you. I love you," he sobbed imploringly.

Felix exhaled. "I know."

"I love you. I love you."

Felix patted his head. "I know."

 _I'm sorry_.

* * *

What happened subsequently had been a blur. Had there been any awkwardness? Had there been profuse apologies? Maybe, but Felix wouldn't remember. Whatever happened between them had passed. They were now tangled with one another, sharing an intimacy not so dissimilar to the kind they had in their childhood.

But then Dimitri went from snuggling to kissing and fondling, and that was when the line was crossed. Felix, however, was too emotionally spent to give a damn. As a result, he put up with Dimitri's lingering touches, essentially throwing away all the hard work that he had done to convince Dimitri that he wasn't interested in pursuing a relationship with him. 

(Really, as fun as it had been going on a romantic stroll with Madison, being around a stranger for hours had been taxing.)

At this point, when neither of them compelled to fill the silence with chatter, Felix meandered through his enclave of stupid ideas. He not only had ideas about running away to become a mercenary, but he had ideas where he would travel the world outside of Fodlan. He had ideas that there could be more in store than just Sreng, Almyra, Dagda, and Brigid. 

He had ideas where, instead of becoming a mercenary, he would become a huntsman who would build himself a quaint cabin in a woodsy area far from civilization. He could live his days fishing and hiking and skinning wild game. 

He had ideas where he would become like Glenn, but not in a way that everyone would want him to be. He would speak with biting sarcasm and would deliver scathing remarks to anyone who he deemed worthless. He would become the lone wolf of the Blue Lions, hardly putting up with anyone, much less the boar.

He had ideas where he would join the Empire instead of staying in Faerghus. In retrospect, that would have been a really stupid idea. Ever since Byleth had returned from his five-year-old slumber (if what the man had said could be believed), the tides of war had been changing for their benefit. Although, at the time, the idea had seemed practical, what with Dimitri being supposedly dead and the Kingdom halved between loyalties. 

Yet right now, Felix wasn't thinking about any of these ideas; he was thinking about Byleth's idea - about doing what he wanted. Felix had once discarded the suggestion to be foolish and selfish, but perhaps...he ought to give foolish and selfish a try. According to Ingrid, wasn't he already foolish? He already got a head start, and being selfish didn't seem all that difficult. 

"Hey, Dimitri, remember how you owe me three favors?"

"Yes, and I also remember promising that I will grant you a million instead."

"No, three will suffice."

Dimitri nuzzled his hair. "If you change your mind, feel free to let me know."

"Hm." Felix idly traced the protruding vein that ran along Dimitri's arm. His finger then glided down to Dimitri's knuckles where the rough scars marred the surface. Dimitri's hands were a patchwork of these white crescents, which explained why the man had been adamant about wearing his gauntlets when they had been students. Strangely, though, the skin felt pleasant to scrape his fingertips along.

Dimitri caught his hand and laced their fingers together. 

"Why do you ask?" 

"I have a favor to ask," Felix said.

"Anything."

"I want to stay in Fraldarius for the remainder of the war."

Dimitri stilled. "You won't march with me to the end?" he asked, tentative and dismayed.

"There's something that I want to take care of," Felix mumbled. He looped circles on Dimitri's hand with his thumb. "Anyway, you've already proven that you're a capable fighter and leader, so I have good faith that you'll emerge victorious with or without me. But it's just a favor; you don't have to permit it."

The king hesitated. "If that is what you desire," he said haltingly, "then let it be so."

Any tension that Felix had been holding lessened. "Thank you. I appreciate it."

"May...I ask what you plan to do there?"

"Like I said, there's something that I want to take care of."

Thankfully, Dimitri got the hint and left it at that. "Then may I ask a favor of my own?"

"Doesn't that defeat the purpose of you owing me a favor?"

"I'll owe another one."

"Fine," Felix sighed. "What is it?"

Felix could feel Dimitri's smile on his jawline when the man peppered him with light kisses. "When I return, will you greet me a warm welcome?"

"I guess I can manage that, yeah."

Dimitri pressed his lips on the corner of his mouth. "Thank you, Felix."

Felix's recovery didn't take long under the healers' care. Eventually, when Felix was up and about, he took to the north whereas Dimitri led his friends and army to the south. 

* * *

Felix refused to accept the title as duke despite how everyone seemed keen on addressing him as such. His uncle was insistent that Felix took the reins, but he held his ground. 

Not yet. Not yet.

There was too much to do before then. 

To blow off steam, Felix would go to the training grounds, yet he would leave unsatisfied. 

Fighting had long ago lost its appeal. Swinging a sword wasn't a rush of adrenaline that made him feel alive; swinging a sword was now...just swinging a sword. 

Had war robbed the one thing that he loved? It would seem so. War was greedy like that - taking away his time and his blood and his father and his passion. War also had a morbid sense of generosity, gifting him nightly terrors where he would see Ferdinand's pale, unseeing face. The dead liked to haunt him too, Dimitri. 

Despite of it all, Felix was the most disappointed by the fact that he was no longer interested in fighting. War had made fighting repetitive, and repetition made fighting - dare he say it - boring. Fighting was boring. 

And where fighting was boring, life became more boring than usual. 

* * *

The reason why Felix wouldn't commit suicide was that he had contemplated death heavily before. In his contemplation, he had thought, "If the Goddess is real and if I defied one of her tenets, where would I go?"

Hell. Felix would go to hell. He might get to meet Nemesis, which would be interesting, but he would be writhing in so much pain that he wouldn't be able to bring himself to take a step. 

Felix was a simple person. He had a healthy fear of the unknown, and the unknown would be what came after death. But the church had some idea of where good and bad Fodlanis would go. Whether this belief had been falsely perpetuated for generations or was as true as Glenn's deceased, undiscovered body, Felix would elect to choose the safer option. 

The world sucked, but he rather not risk burning indefinitely than disappearing forever. 

* * *

Felix thought more about Byleth and his advice. More than he ought to. It had gotten to the point where the words would blare loudly in his head in everything that he did, especially whenever he sat behind his father's desk and sorted through the papers. 

One day, as he perused the archives for the financial records, Felix was blown over by a strong wind of "I don't want to do this."

"I really don't want to do this," Felix mumbled. 

He didn't want to be a duke. He didn't want to run the estate. Who cared about wealth and power? What did prestige matter when Felix was going to end up miserable? This wasn't living; this was suffering. He might as well cross the Goddess and slice his own jugular because staying here was tantamount to death. 

Felix nearly jumped on the impulse to get on a horse and flee as far as he could, but he sank to his knees as though being closer to the floor could mitigate the desire. When he realized that didn't make sense, not to mention how dumb he must have looked, he slowly stood up. 

He blankly stared at the collection of books that ran alongside the walls. He then turned to the mantle than hung high on the wall. On the mantle were dual swords, ones that his grandfather had wielded until he had been forced to retire from fighting. His father had relayed this story to Glenn and Felix in part of a lesson: something something never give up unless something something. 

His father had only mentioned it once, and over a decade ago at that, so Felix couldn't properly quote him on it or remember what the underlying message was about. 

Maybe he could dig through the recess of his memories if he deigned to, but he still wanted to run. 

Felix decided to actually act out on the next impulsive thing that came to mind. He dragged a chair, clambered on top of it, and took down one of the swords from the mantle. 

If the landed on its side, he would stay. If it landed upright, he would go. 

Felix experimented with the weight of the sword in his hand, waving the blade up and down and letting the handle bounce on his palm. The sword wasn't as heavy as any other weapon he had held before; it was quite light and easy to swing. Then he tossed the sword into the air and watched it spin. 

Because of how light it was, there was no that this sword could - 

With a thunk, the blade embedded itself into the rug, perfectly perpendicular to the floor. 

Felix stared. 

He nudged the sword with his boot. The sword didn't topple over.

He figured that he should at least mull over what he was going to do. 

* * *

Felix took a month to stew on his decision. He then presented it to his uncle and cousin. 

Emmeline was not impressed. 

"That's the most moronic thing I've ever heard, and I've heard plenty of shit," she snapped. Emmeline thrust her finger into his direction. "Your plan is shit!"

"Emmeline," Uncle gasped, mortified. "Please, mind your language!"

"Father, the only thing we ought to mind is Felix's loss of sanity!"

"I had a feeling you'd oppose," Felix said. On a rare case of self-approbation (because he finally used that foresight Ingrid had been harping at him about), he smirked. "That's why I preemptively signed off the documents."

Uncle and Emmeline stared at him in twin expressions of aghast. And then Emmeline shrieked, "You did _what_?"

"Congratulations. You're the new - "

"No. No, no, no! Enough of this nonsense, Felix!" If Emmeline wasn't a poised young woman who just happened to have a penchant for swearing when stressed, she would have lunged for his throat. Instead, she bristled like she was fire itself. "Do you even hear yourself? How can you just surrender everything? What was the point of you liberating Faerghus when you're just going to abandon it?"

"I don't see it that way," Felix replied calmly. "I just see it as handing it over to someone far more capable than I could ever be. Someone who'll do the Fraldarius territory right. Someone who's unlike me, who'll no doubt somehow make it implode or something." 

"That's not an excuse! You just don't apply yourself," she fumed. "And lands don't implode; they explode, you dumbass!"

" _Emmeline_ ," Uncle pleaded.

"Lands can implode if you involve magic. I've seen it happen in battle. Additionally, I do apply myself, just not as effectively as you do."

"You're just running away."

"Yeah." Felix wasn't going to deny it. "I don't want the inheritance."

"What makes you think I'd want it? My life is good as it is without you shoving me _your_ responsibility."

"Not mine anymore."

Emmeline growled and moved to stand up when Uncle placed a hand on her shoulder. She glowered at him but complied, lowering herself back to her seat. Uncle looked between them long-sufferingly before gusting out a sigh. 

"Felix, please think about it," Uncle said. "Do you think your father would want you to do this?"

Of course not. His father would rather have him follow his footsteps and cater to Dimitri's every need. As the king's advisor. As the king's shield. But his father wasn't here anymore, nor did Felix feel beholden to fill the shoes of a dead man who couldn't judge him beyond the grave. 

When Felix told them as such, Uncle sighed again. "You were always the unorthodox sort," he said, sounding resigned. "I... Are you absolutely certain of this?"

"One hundred percent."

"If you ever change your mind..."

"I won't," Felix vowed.

Uncle sighed. Again.

Emmeline scowled at Felix in her scrutiny. "I can't believe that you're six years older than me," she groused.

"I'll say," Felix said. "You got your head screwed on better when I was your age."

* * *

News of the Savior King's triumph spread across the land like wildfire. 

Felix packed a little faster. 

* * *

Felix hadn't lied to Dimitri when he said that he would welcome him back upon his return. He had intended on following through the favor, but he had ended up changing his mind. So, technically not a lie at that time, but did it make it a lie currently? 

At least it had been a favor and not a promise. Those two were on different levels of commitment. Semantics. Dimitri couldn't hold him responsible for that. 

Well, apparently, Dimitri could. Why? Because he was not only the king of Faerghus but the king of Fodlan, and being the king of the entire continent meant that he could accuse Felix of any allegation and have him suffer any punishment. Him being king also meant that he could have people report to him about anything from every nook and cranny of the land. 

Hence why Dimitri and a passel of knights had managed to catch up to Felix after he had left the Fraldarius duchy three weeks ago. 

After being corralled into the closest inn where a frenetic keeper had to be escorted out of the room by one of the knights, Felix was then subjected to the most peeved glare that he had ever seen on Dimitri's face. Felix had witnessed Dimitri on varying degrees of anger - fond exasperation to icy indignation - but peeved was where he found himself walking down memory lane of his father giving him that same look. 

"What is the meaning of this?" Dimitri demanded severely. 

Two scenarios could be at play here: One, Dimitri hadn't read his letter. Two, Dimitri had read his letter but had decided to pursue him out of disbelief. 

"Did you read my letter?" Felix inquired. He had one sent to Sylvain, Ingrid, and Ashe, and they hadn't rushed after him; then again, they probably had stayed in Fhirdiad to celebrate. Whatever the case might be. 

"Yes, I read your letter."

Okay, so it was the latter. "Then you know why."

"You wrote about how you wanted to go traveling," he said, voice tinged with incredulity and outrage. "So you abandoned your title and left without a word."

Yeah, definitely the latter. "If I left without a word, I wouldn't leave a letter - "

" _Felix_ ," Dimitri roared, slamming his hands on the table. The table shook from the impact, yet it miraculously kept intact. "Do you have any idea just how ridiculous you sound? And what you're doing - you cannot tell me that you have honestly thought this through! You're acting on spontaneity! A mere whim!"

A lump formed in Felix's stomach. He pursed his lips. "Why do you say that?"

The look that the king sent him was edging on baleful. "You have never done anything without further consideration. This is unlike you. And after everything that we have been through - from our training to the battles that we've fought in - " He cut himself short to shake his head, his fists tightening on the table. "I'm disinclined to believe that you would forfeit _everything_ just to go _sightseeing_."

"That night in the infirmary," Felix said softly. "Was that anything like me?"

Dimitri flinched. "What does that have to do - ?"

"The things that I've said. Did you ever anticipate me saying such? Or how I view you. Wasn't it startling to find out that you're nothing but a boar in my eyes?"

Dimitri didn't say anything.

"You don't know me," he informed him blandly. "No one does. But I know you. The reason why you put on that prince-like facade when we were kids wasn't just to conceal your true nature; you were trying to fulfill everyone's expectations of what a prince ought to be. You didn't know what to do with yourself, so you went along with the farce because everyone else knew. Have you ever considered that lying to oneself and to the world isn't exclusive to you?"

The lump became a ball of flame, and Felix luxuriated in its smoldering heat. His skin prickled with energy. 

"Ingrid is the most obvious example. She establishes herself as a strong knight-to-be when she's actually a hurt girl still reeling over the loss of her fiance. She thinks that she can smother the pain with her ideals of chivalry and knighthood, but she can't escape the reality of who she is. She can't stop the world from being gray despite how black and white she sees it as.

"Sylvain goes the reverse: He portrays himself as a mindless skirt-chaser when he's acting in direct opposition to his parents' expectations. He doesn't seduce women to build an attractive persona; he seduces them to later hurt them because he hates them. Sylvain is at least aware of what he does and the kind of person he is. But the rest of us, you and I, have been deluding ourselves for years.

"Everything that I've worked towards is for naught. I can't live with the life that has been made for me. I can't stay and be my father - "

"Then don't," Dimitri said. "I just need you to be yourself."

"You wouldn't want me."

"Don't presume to know what I want."

"I already said that I do, didn't I?" Not before. Certainly not when they had been studying together in the monastery, but Felix did now. More than he ever wanted to. "You have your idea of who I am and that's who you want. Not me."

"Then who are you?"

"Why do you think I left everything behind? I'm trying to figure that out for myself."

Dimitri gritted his teeth. "Why can't you do that at home?"

"Because that's where the falsehoods began. How am I supposed to have my self-revelation when I'm constantly bombarded with these people who imposed their expectations on me?" Felix huffed shortly, smiling wryly. "If I stay, then I'll only be suffocated."

"Then you choose to throw your responsibilities away," Dimitri surmised flatly. 

"Have I ever been selfish?"

"You doing this certainly shows how selfish you can be."

"Before this."

No response. 

"Can't I have this?" Felix asked, leaning forward. "How much more do I have to give myself away?"

"Is that not hypocritical?" Dimitri bit out. "Were you not the one to tell me to uphold my duties? I'm giving myself to all of Fodlan. I won't abandon my duties just to suit my own personal needs."

"You already did for five years."

He recoiled as though he had been slapped. 

By virtue of their statuses, Felix was keenly aware that this conversation would have gone terribly for him had Dimitri not been a creature prescribed by his sentiments rather than his pride. That had been why he had been stricken by Edelgard's betrayal to the point of madness. 

Yet, as it were, Felix wasn't a noble but a commoner, and for a commoner to speak so candidly, so rudely, to his king warranted a public flogging. But it wasn't Felix's intention to dance tauntingly around Dimitri; he just wanted Dimitri to understand. 

"Perhaps you are correct in saying that I do not know you," Dimitri whispered. "The Felix that I know would not be so cruel."

"The Felix you know never cared to voice his thoughts aloud until now."

"Do you hate me?"

"I never did."

"I find that difficult to believe," he said raggedly, blue eye wide with a sheen. "You see me as a monster and you make an attempt to run away from me. What else? You didn't bother to see my return nor tell me in person about your plans. All you left was a letter. If that isn't your loathing for me, then what is?"

"I've known hatred, and what I feel for you isn't that," Felix replied somberly. "It's complicated, I admit. You were...a source of my fears, disgust, sadness... I can never forget what I've witnessed during the Western Rebellion, but I have come to accept that part of you. You won't go back to being the Dimitri that I once cherished in our childhood; instead, you'll always be this amalgamation of man and beast."

"If you accept me, then why?" Dimitri pleaded to know.

"I'm not running from _you_. This isn't about you or the Fraldarius duchy or anything related to that." Partly. "This is about me figuring things out for myself. I can't do that back at home; I need to do it out there. Into the world."

At some point, the discussion derailed. Neither side would relent.

Dimitri, unaccustomed to a Felix who wouldn't comply with him, made promises of luxury and comfort. Felix didn't want to be a duke? Fine, Felix could do nothing whatsoever. Even better - he could reside within the walls of the Blaiddyd Castle and spend every coin out of Dimitri's personal funds to his heart's content. Just as long as he stayed, the king would grant him everything that he desired. 

Felix, with his newfound resolution, wasn't tempted by such offerings. 

As any king flustered by a subject unwilling to bend his knee, Dimitri growled about Felix's disobedience to the crown. Felix told him to drag him away in chains if he was that adamant. Dimitri then yelled at him again for abandoning his title and forcing his young cousin to fill the role, lecturing him as though he hadn't promised Felix a life free of responsibilities moments ago. 

Felix remained firm in his stance.

Dimitri finally asked what would it take for Felix to come back with him. 

"Nothing," Felix answered.

"I could order you to," Dimitri said. "I could make do with what you suggested and drag you back."

"You could, but you wouldn't." Because he was a creature of sentimentality. 

There was a clear distinction of when Felix had stopped shedding a million tears, only for Dimitri to do that for him. For when he had been a prince, Dimitri had been trapped behind gilded bars, stifling from the weight of expectations and tragedies. Just like Felix. Unlike Felix, however, Dimitri was a bottle overflowing instead of a bottle with a leak. 

That was why Dimitri was crying in front of him while Felix patted his shoulder. 

"I love you."

"I know," Felix murmured, "but you don't know me."

"I love you regardless. I love you, Felix. Please - please, don't leave me." 

"I know," he said, continuing his patting. "I know."

* * *

"Remember how you owe me two more favors?"

"Do you expect me to do any of them after you failed to keep yours?"

Felix shrugged. "You can do them if you want."

Dimitri studied him with his narrowed eye before slowly nodding. "What is it?"

"My first favor is that you let me go."

He deflated. "If you truly know me, then you should already know that I cannot do that."

"I don't mean emotionally," Felix said, smiling. "Although, that would've been preferred. I'm not someone who you should keep pining after."

"What is it that you meant by letting you go?" Dimitri asked coolly. 

"Let me go out into the world as I intended to do."

"I see... Then your second?"

"My second favor is for you to not look for me."

"Am I to expect for you to never return?" he murmured. 

Felix didn't know, so he didn't answer that. 

"May I ask a favor myself?"

"Sure," Felix said.

"Keep in contact. Visit us." Favors. Promises. Semantics. Felix kept quiet, though. "If not me, then the others. They will miss you." No, they wouldn't. They had seldom spoken with him. Sylvain and Ashe found him too boring to stick around. Ingrid was often too irritated by him to really care. 

But Dimitri... Despite his affections being misplaced, Felix knew that Dimitri would miss him.

Felix smiled again. "If I were to travel around the world, I'm bound to end where I started, won't I?"

* * *

Being out on the open road was a novelty, and it was the kind of novelty that wouldn't wane with time. 

There was always something different and interesting going on, and the struggle of making ends meet while on the go was refreshing and fulfilling. Felix had done all sorts of things that he had never thought that he would do, like plowing fields for a farmer or sword-dancing for a traveling troupe. Sometimes, he would be a hunter; other times, he would be a bodyguard escorting a merchant family. 

There were no rules to abide by; there were no routines to adhere to. Felix woke up at varying hours of the day just as he slept at odd hours of the night. He still trained for practical reasons, but he didn't commit to the same level of dedication as he had before. 

Every morning, Felix no longer thought, "Goddess, just strike me dead. I'm done." He would now think, "What's going to happen today?"

Because today was a new day to experience, and, for once in Felix's life, he looked forward to today. 

Today and tomorrow and the days that would follow. Because he was finally free. Because life was finally not boring.

Until he was attacked by bandits in the middle of the night. 

As Felix laid on the cold ground after the surviving bandits had scrambled away, drenched in his pooling blood, he dryly recalled how he had once wished for a bandit to one day end him. The irony of when he stopped yearning for death only for death to be served to him. 

Felix didn't think of anything else afterward. His vision was shrouded by darkness, and he fell away to a slumber that he would never rouse out of. 

And, so, Felix Hugo Fraldarius died that night, only a scant year into his exploration across the land and sea. His body would remain in the rural pit of the dense forest, only to be feasted upon wild animals and maggots. He would be skeletal scraps for these obscure woods, and no one would ever know what had become of him. 

Perhaps a fitting end for a man so devoid of himself. 

Meanwhile, the king of Fodlan would peer longingly out of his window, waiting for his beloved's return. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This story is about "Life is just prolonged suffering; there are no happy endings."
> 
> I know that there are people who have been expecting a catharsis of sorts, but I then thought, "If I show just how much life sucks, then there's no way that I can tie this together satisfactorily." So, there you go. A bittersweet ending.
> 
> Dimitri high-key pining and lovelorn, Felix suppressing his own feelings so far down that he can't tell what's left and what's right, and everyone remaining oblivious to Felix's issues. Except for Byleth and Dedue, but Byleth and Dedue have responsibilities to attend to, so they don't have time to work through Felix (who has already skipped town). 
> 
> Thank you to those who read this story! I was surprised to see that there were people who found this fic to have "hit home." I hope the connection wasn't too jarring. To me, to see an outwardly dull character living his days in a world full of colorful characters would've been interesting, and more so when said dull character happens to be inwardly messy. 
> 
> And, of course, as a Dimilix shipper, I had to insert Dimilix in some fashion. ;D
> 
> In Dimitri's case, why did he fall in love with Felix? Or was it really love? It had something to do with Felix being different and how he treated Dimitri without any of that forced propriety stuff. That and more. 
> 
> To those who wanted a happy ending... Sorry for getting your hopes up 😔  
> But that's what life does - it gets your hopes up.


End file.
